


A Lack of Armor

by AmberLehcar, PeregrineWilliams



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/F, F/M, warning for swearing, warning for transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 16:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9333641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberLehcar/pseuds/AmberLehcar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeregrineWilliams/pseuds/PeregrineWilliams
Summary: Soul’s life has consisted of piano recitals in gowns and elaborate updos, not fitting for the man that he is.  College gives him an escape from family and an avenue for change, but trying to figure out your future at 18 is hard. Trans!Soul College AU





	1. Awkward and Innocent, Not Belligerent

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Resonance Bang 2016! I've been working on this fic since last year's Resbang, but life got hectic, so it's here now. I got to work with the lovely Peregr1ne and thesockswhowearsfox as my artists who made amazing digital art and music respectively. You can find their works along with all the other participants' either via the ResbangMod on tumblr or the Grigori Wings forum (Pere's work can be found throughout the fic here on AO3). Warning for swearing and transphobia as well as transphobic slur in chapter 6, just a heads-up.

It's finally quiet for a moment. With all the rush to gather his things, all the grunts from heavy lifting, all the showering of praise from his mother, the last few days have left his head spinning and his ears ringing. In all of the excitement, he hadn't been sure whether he should go through with his decision or not. But now, scissors in hand, head clear, and reflection standing before him in the mirror, he knows it's time.

He grabs his silver hair at the shoulders and watches his reflection carefully cut away.

It doesn't feel as drastic of a decision as Soul had originally thought. It's choppy and much shorter than his mother had ever allowed him to cut it before, but it feels right. The first in a long line of choices to make him feel more like… himself.

There are footsteps behind him, and Wes's voice calls out, "Soul, we gotta get going or else we'll miss your-" He appears in the doorway to see traces of silver hair scattered on the hardwood floor. "...flight," he finishes, before stepping closer, Soul turning around to face him.

The younger sibling pulls on a strand of what hair is still attached to his head. "It's that bad, huh…?"

"Nothing I can't fix," Wes replies. He gently takes the scissors from Soul's hand and grabs a comb from the vanity next to them. "It won't be perfect, we just don't have time for that, but I'll try to save it as best I can. Could you sit for me? It'll be easier that way."

Soul does as he is told and watches as his brother works. "Can you… make it more like yours?"

The older brother pauses for a moment. "Mom's not going to be happy. She always loved your long hair."

"Mom's not going to see it, is she? They're both too busy to see me off, right?"

With a sigh and a small smirk, Wes continues trying to fix the mangled remains of Soul's hair. There's a beat of silence before he chuckles. "If I know you, you'll make me take the window seat." Classic subject change. Wes was always good at avoiding uncomfortable topics. "And if I also know you, being stuck like a sardine in a flying can for eight hours is gonna make you sick. You sure you want the aisle?"

Soul hums in affirmation. "I'll be fine. I think."

"All finished. Can we go now? I said it before, we don't want to miss the flight. You can sleep on the plane, but I need you awake long enough to help me with your luggage."

No response. Soul is too busy admiring his brother's handiwork in the mirror. The front frames his face nicely, very much like his older brother's, but the rest still refuses to lay properly despite the shortened length. Maybe that won't ever change, but it doesn't seem to matter. He really starts to believe his new life at the University of Las Vegas will be a good time to start over.

…

Trying to find parking is a nightmare.

Navigating McCarran Airport and loading up Soul's possessions had been the easy part. Slowly following cones, avoiding jaywalkers, and trying to make sense of university volunteers' instructions is the hard part. Soul plays navigator in all this, using the school pamphlet's map as best he can to direct Wes and the rental car toward the Tonopah complex, but map reading has never been his forte. It doesn't help that there is a lot more greenery to distract him than he had anticipated. Between directions, he has to keep reminding himself that they are in Nevada even if it doesn't look like the desert he'd imagined.

The older brother does his best not to swear as the car ahead of them stops abruptly. The responsibility to set a good example doesn't just go away now that Soul is a college student, apparently.

"That looks like the pictures online, doesn't it?" Wes says, pointing to the large, L-shaped building to the left. Soul consults the map and confirms that they are just about there. They wait for a little while as the car ahead of them figures out they've taken a wrong turn and does their best to turn around despite the people around them. A volunteer motions for Wes to drive up to an available spot in front of the building, and he sighs in relief as they finally park.

"Still glad you came with?" the younger asks, throwing on his backpack.

"You think you could have gotten this far on your own?"

Soul smiles softly and opens the door. Outside is a similar chaos to packing back in New Haven. People rushing by with heavy furniture, excited chatter of those who have done their part, the occasional sob from an emotional mother. He feels lost in a sea of excitement, and it takes Wes grabbing his shoulder to bring him back to land.

"I'll buy you lunch once we get your stuff in your room, deal?" he says, popping the trunk of the rental car. "After that, I might get out of your hair and play tourist for a while. Could use a vacation!" He winks at the younger and hands him a box labeled "clothes" before ducking back into the trunk.

Adjusting the box in his hands, Soul turns toward the building and bumps into someone. The box starts to tumble, but not before a thin hand helps grab it. It takes him a moment to register her red shirt as one of the volunteers'. The young woman before him chuckles and rights the box for him.

"You look like you could use some help," she says, tucking a stray strand of black hair behind her ear. He nods, and she turns to Wes, holding out her arms to accept a box of her own.

The older gives a courteous nod. "Well thank you, Miss…"

"Tsubaki," she introduces, taking a box labeled "music" from him. "What room are you in?"

"They told us 223? In Tonopah Center?" Wes sets down a larger box on the cement and slams the trunk closed. "We might need to make a second trip for this one, kinda heavy."

She nods and jerks her head to have them follow her. "So, you must be a music major, huh?" she asks Soul as she passes by him to lead the way. She must have seen the label.

"Undecided, actually," he mutters, trying to keep up. He hopes Wes doesn't catch it. His brother had always had high hopes for his music career.

"You'll have to check out the Music Center. They have plenty of practice rooms if you wanted to play sometime!"

"Thanks…" Labeling the boxes had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now Soul isn't so sure. Hiding from music is going to be a lot harder than he had originally thought.

No words are exchanged on the way up the stark white stairs. The echoey staircase is too full of footsteps and noise from others around them for proper conversation anyway. Tsubaki leads them to the second floor, which she explains is co-ed once they've safely made it through the door into muffled chaos. "You lucked out with a single room as a Freshman," she continues, throwing a smile over her shoulder to Soul. "They're usually reserved for the few upperclassmen we have in the Tonopah Community. You'll have to share a bathroom, of course, but at least that's all you'll have to share!"

The group passes by a small kitchen area, complete with a family in a group hug. The sobs from the new student's siblings and general "good lucks" from her parents makes a lump form in Soul's throat. A large bulletin board catches his eye as he tries to keep up with Tsubaki's long strides. "Would You Rather?" is stuck across the top with two options printed on paper below: "use sandpaper as toilet paper" and "use hot sauce as eye drops." Soul cringes as he notices a clothespin attached to the former. The name "Kilik" is written clearly on it, and even more clothespins are attached at the bottom of the board. Tsubaki or whoever else is an RA for their floor must have put them there. He's tempted to make sure his name is also carefully hand written on one, to confirm that everything is still real, before his brother calls him over to room 223.

Wes ushers him into the room as Tsubaki sets her box down on the bed in the opposite corner of the room. It takes him a moment to really take in his new home for the year: large built-in closet, vanity complete with sink, single bed, desk and chair, TV. He lays the "clothes" box on the desk and haphazardly throws his backpack on the ground nearby. "All this just for me?" he asks in awe.

"Lucky son of a gun," Wes laughs, opening the closet door to take a look. "I had to share my room with a neat freak. He made me sleep closest to the door so I had to make sure my side was clean all the time for guests. I mean, it worked, but it was annoying."

"Well, we'll let you get used to everything, maybe start unpacking. Your… brother, I assume? We'll get that last box," Tsubaki says to Soul as she passes by him.

Soul nods and watches the two leave, already beginning to chat about who knows what. He turns his attention back to the box on the desk and opens it. Most of his "clothes" box consists of towels and other toiletries rather than actual clothes. The actual "clothes" box his mother had packed for him lies tucked in a corner of his closet back home. They may be few, but the clothing he has with him suit him far more, he feels.

He sets aside the stack of clothes on top, grabs a towel and heads for the bathroom. As soon as he opens the door, the one on the opposite side opens, revealing a girl with bright pink hair carrying a laundry bin. He makes a mental note to get a bin of his own.

The girl sets down the basket with an irritated grunt. "Why the hell we have to share bathrooms is beyond me…" she mutters before turning to him. He's seen her fiery eyes in others before her, and he braces for impact. "Look, let's set up some ground rules, 'kay? When I'm in here, I'll lock your door. When you're in here, you lock mine. Got it? The less we see of each other, the better. Not the way I wanted this to go, but it's better than having a full-time roommate." With that, she returns to her room, slamming the door behind her.

"Yeesh, what a grouch," Wes says, leaning on the door frame and causing Soul to nearly jump out of his skin. "Good thing you don't have to see much of her." He falls back into the room towards the large box he and the volunteer had brought in. The younger hangs his towel over the towel rack closest to his door and follows his brother's suit.

Tsubaki is nowhere to be found when Soul returns to his clothes, probably helping other students get settled. He hopes he runs into her again, hopefully not in the same fashion they had run into each other initially. As he moves to set his clothes in the closet, he eyes Wes unboxing his new desktop computer, a sort of going-away present their parents had gotten him. It almost makes up for the fact they didn't really see him off. Almost.

"I'm sure you've guessed my present already. We can pick it up after we get lunch." The older continues setting up the computer as he tries to make conversation. "I know there's an oven down the hall, but I think having your own microwave and fridge fits your hermit lifestyle a little better than a community kitchen."

Wes turns around to give him a cheeky grin, to which Soul replies by giving him the finger, just barely letting a smile cross his own face. Hermit lifestyle is right. He certainly hopes his RAs don't have some sort of open-door rule planned for their floor.

"Well, you've got all weekend to unpack, but only a little while left today to spend with your big brother. Let's get some grub," the older says, slapping his hands on his stomach.

A soft knock comes from the door, and Tsubaki appears in the open doorway. "You'll probably want to lock up your room before you go," she says, tossing a key in Soul's direction. He scrambles to catch it and holds it close to him. "I forgot to drop it off earlier. Enjoy lunch! I'll see you later at the floor meeting!" With that, she disappears once more.

"Floor meeting?" Soul mutters, walking out into the hallway. He spots a neon green poster a little further down the hall that reads "Ain't no party like a floor meeting party 'cause a floor meeting party is mandatory!" followed by when and where details. Wes must see it, too, because it doesn't take long before the older snorts, trying to contain his laughter.

…

Returning to the room pains Soul's stomach, but he's not sure if it's because of Wes' imminent departure or lunch. The older sets up the new microwave on top of the mini fridge and stands back to admire his handiwork.

"This wall looks empty," Wes says, finally breaking the silence. "You should get a bookcase, fill it up with textbooks or whatever. Make this place more yours." He sets his hands on his hips and turns to Soul. "Well… I guess it's time, huh? You too cool to hug your big brother?"

Soul's gaze drops to the floor for only a moment before rushing towards the older and wrapping him in a hug. Wes is still about a head taller than him, so he tucks his head under his brother's chin. There's a hand on the top of his head, another rubbing his back, and it all feels safe and comfortable and familiar, so why does anyone want to grow up and move away and be alone and -

"I'm gonna miss you, you know? Christmas isn't that far away, but I'm still gonna miss you." Wes' grip on him tightens ever so slightly before he pulls back and places his hands on his shoulders. "Don't be a stranger, all right? Call every once in awhile."

Soul nods and Wes's hands drop to his sides. The older gives a small wave and heads for the door. There's a voice in the younger's head, nagging him to say something, anything. "Hey, Wes?" The doorknob is turned but the door doesn't open. "You know… you know I love you, right?"

He smiles. "I love you, too. Don't forget to pick up your ID, and don't miss your floor meeting party." He winks and heads out the door, closing it softly behind him.

And silence. Soul lets his gaze wander around the room again, still not quite believing this is all real. The quiet makes it even harder to believe it isn't just a dream, and he'll wake up with his hair still intact. But then a shriek (of terror or joy, he doesn't know) comes from the hallway as a couple of girls run past his room, and everything feels real again.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and ignores the text from his mother to look at the time. Only ten minutes until the floor meeting. With nothing left to do but either unpack or stare blankly at the wall, Soul decides to head down to Tonopah Lawn as the neon poster had instructed.

The lawn sits in the crook of the buildings that make up the Tonopah Community, and apparently it makes the perfect place for everyone to hold their floor meetings despite the midday sun beating down on them. There are already groups gathered out on the lawn, some of them seated in the grass while others are up playing ice-breaker games. Towards the center of the lawn stands the familiar Tsubaki next to a dark-skinned man with a sign reading "2nd Floor Center". The woman spots him and waves at him with a smile, encouraging him to come over.

"Nice to see you again, Soul!" she greets. He flinches, not recalling ever actually introducing himself. Wes must have done it for him when they brought up the computer. "This is the RA for the boys' side, Kilik."

He nods in greeting, which Soul returns. Kilik turns to Tsubaki and asks, "So, we gonna do the usual 'name, year, major, where you're from' now, or we waiting till everyone gets here?"

"We should probably wait," she concludes. "You know how the first week is. No need to make her repeat the same answers over and over again."

Soul's jaw tightens. He'd been silly to think that just a simple haircut would change everything. Even halfway across the country, nothing has really changed. Of course, it isn't Tsubaki's fault, how could she possibly know without him saying something? But there's still a small ache in his chest.

Little by little, students from his floor join them on the lawn. Soul spots his neighbor's pink hair and does his best to avoid looking in her general direction. Tsubaki's finger bobs a little as she counts heads under her breath. Everyone must be in attendance, because she nods a little to herself and motions for Kilik to drop his sign.

"Welcome! For most of you, this is a welcome back, and for some of you, this is a welcome to your first year at UNLV! Before we start with introductions, I want to remind you of some rules. Ten o' clock starts quiet hours, so be respectful of your neighbors. Please clean up after yourself in the kitchen, and make sure to take out your garbage to the dumpsters at the far end of the hall," she says, gesturing towards said dumpsters.

Kilik takes a step forward and gestures towards the housing complex. "When you get hungry, you can use your meals at the Dining Commons across the street. If you're not into what they're serving, you can go that way," he explains, turning to point across the lawn, "and head towards the Student Union. Never lose your Rebel Card, or else you'll have a hard time getting food or back onto your floor. After today, you'll use your Rebel Card to get into Tonopah after ten, and to get to your floor at any time. Any questions?"

A few shake their heads, even fewer give a "nope". Tsubaki takes some notecards from her pocket and hands one to each of the students. "To introduce ourselves, I need everyone to stand in a circle. We'll each take a turn saying our name, what year and what major we are, where we are from, and read and finish the sentence on your particular card," she explains. "I'll go first! My name is Tsubaki Nakatsukasa. I'm a Junior studying Elementary Education, and I was born in Nagoya, Japan. 'The thing I remember most from high school is'..." Her face screws up in concentration, bottom lip sucked between her teeth. "Probably a tie between moving to Colorado just before starting high school and the Pixar-themed speech our valedictorian gave. So, who's next?"

Slowly, everyone falls into a circle. One by one, they take turns introducing themselves. Soul's neighbor sighs as it comes to her turn. "Kim Diehl, Junior. I'm a Business major from Arizona, and 'my favorite children's book is' The Velveteen Rabbit." Kim scratches the side of her face, clearly embarrassed by her card.

Soul wonders if such a dragon lady could really have a soft spot for children's books or if it just happened to be her favorite long ago. As he contemplates this, his turn finally comes around. He'd been too preoccupied with most everyone's answers to come up with one for himself, but still he greets, "'m Soul Evans, and I'm a Freshman. I'm from Connecticut, and I… haven't quite figured out what I'm studying yet. 'If I were to teach a subject, I would teach'..." The obvious answer is music. Everything leads back to music. But what does he know? What knowledge could he possibly offer to students? "Pass." No matter how hard he tries, there is still a sound of defeat in his answer. He catches Kim looking at him and lowers his gaze to his feet.

He could use a victory today. No matter how small. Instead, the meeting concludes, and the students are free to wander campus, go back to their rooms, whatever their hearts desire. Soul opts to seek refuge in his room. Even if he weren't so much of a hermit, after the day he has had, he wouldn't really feel like socializing.

On his way up to his floor, he passes by faces that will probably become familiar as the year goes on. Familiar, but probably never really known more than another face in the crowd. Nothing has really changed despite all his hoping. Vegas, New Haven, it's all the same. Surrounded by people, and yet he feels lonelier than ever. Part of him tries to reassure him that it's only the first day, that he really does have the whole year to commit these names and faces to memory. The other part of him doesn't want to hear it.

Once in the safety of his room, Soul fiddles with his new computer. Naturally, he isn't connected to the internet when it finally powers up, but he had neglected to ask Tsubaki how exactly to connect it after all of the first-day fuss. The sound of chatter in the hallway discourages him from seeking her out, so he shuts down the computer with a sigh and makes his bed with sheets found in the bottom of his "clothes" box. He hadn't thought to grab food before running upstairs he realizes as he climbs into the bed and tosses the brown striped comforter over his head. Not like he has an appetite anyway.

It's still early, but the world outside his comforter is too loud for him right now, and all he wants is peace and quiet. And so, he sleeps, doing his best to believe that school won't be the death of him.


	2. Forget-Me-Nots and Marigolds

Soul is glad Wes made him print off his schedule before they left for Vegas.

Two days into the school year, and Soul still hasn't figured out how to get the Wifi working with his computer. Tsubaki's handmade door decor seems to constantly have the ladybug stuck to "Out", "On Rounds", or "brb", and he's too nervous to ask any of his neighbors for help.

So he sits alone at the Dining Commons, absentmindedly plucking nasty meat circles (or as most call them, "pepperoni") off his pizza slice and waiting for class to start. He'd had the option to take morning classes, but 8:30 in the morning is an ungodly hour for focusing. So 1 in the afternoon it is. His phone buzzes angrily next to his plate, lighting up to reveal another text from his mother. He sighs, shoves his phone in his pocket, and carries the remains of his lunch over to the garbage.

It's nearly time for class, and he isn't that hungry anyway.

He pulls his already crinkly schedule from his other pocket to double-check where his first class of the semester is. Mondays and Wednesdays are the difficult days with English and Math back to back. Every other day is just one class, leaving him plenty of time to work on homework. Provided the remainder of his books arrive soon. As Soul reaches the Classroom Building Complex, he hopes his professor won't be using their textbook this week.

Room 128 isn't as packed as he originally had thought it would be. Most students sit quietly at the desk they snagged, flipping through their textbook or phone, while the social butterflies run through the "name, hometown, major" quiz. Someone shoves by him to claim the only left-handed desk in the room. College isn't so different from high school after all.

Most of the desks still available are towards the front of the classroom, so Soul finds a seat as far back as possible. He leans his face on folded hands and watches the remainder of the students and a woman he assumes is their professor file in. Blunt bob, black suit, glasses, and resting bitch face, she logs into the computer provided and brings up her syllabus on the overhead projector for the class to see.

"My name is Asuza Yumi. Welcome to English Composition 1," she greets, pushing her glasses up her nose. "If you haven't already, you'll need to print off the syllabus. I don't provide copies for anyone as we're all adults here, and I trust you can sort out your own documents. As you can see, it has deadlines for all of our major projects, so you'll want to keep a close eye on it."

Luckily for him, there is no mention of their textbook for the week. Asuza gives a brief run-through of the syllabus, and Soul is certain there will be icebreakers to follow. Apparently she isn't a fan of these as she dives head first into their first assignment. "I want you to find a music video, something that isn't too 'mainstream' and is maybe a little strange.." He flinches and hopes no one notices. It's always like this, everything leads back to music. "You're going to write a summary based on the video you choose. Bring it to class on Wednesday, and we'll go from there."

With that, she turns off the overhead projector and continues to work at the computer, leaving the a room of Freshmen wondering if they are free to go. Soul waits, watching as a student gets up to chat with her. It feels like the entire classroom is holding their collective breath as they wait to see if this conversation will continue class or not, but Azusa doesn't acknowledge the remaining students. Hesitantly, a few walk out, throwing looks over their shoulders just to be certain. Soul follows their lead. Maybe college isn't like high school after all.

...

Armed with his assignment but not with internet access, the hermit in himself caves and ventures to the library to work on his assignment. Because unlike high school, college assignments apparently have to all be turned in electronically. And without precious wifi in the confines of his room, his only option is to be around people. At least he can print off his syllabi and not face the wrath of his professors.

The library is a quiet orchestra of typing, clicking, and muttering. Soul pulls up a seat in the line of computers available and lets his useless laptop thud against the desk from inside his backpack. Now, how is he supposed to pick a video? His days were filled with mostly classical music thanks to his mother and brother. Really not something that has a music video to accompany it.

The internet browser is still open from whoever used the computer last, minimized on the taskbar. Curiosity gets the better of him, and he opens it. It's his lucky day, honestly. Someone else must have had a similar assignment, if not the same one, and suddenly there is his answer. "Tycho - 'See'" appears beneath the paused YouTube video. Curiosity gets the better of him, and he plugs his earbuds into the computer to play the video from the beginning.

A woman wakes in the middle of a forest to the sound of the music. Nearby lays some sort of artifact with a glowing symbol engraved on it. It must be the band's logo as it is also the channel's profile picture. She picks up the artifact and travels through the forest, dancing almost like a ritual to the song. The video flashes to the band multiple times as they play in darkness, covered in tiny dots of light. Almost like starlight. The woman encounters a man, and she chases him deeper into the forest, eventually transporting to a sea shore. She views the world in much different hues than reality, sort of like looking through rose-tinted glasses. In the end, the man she had been chasing wakes in much the same way she had at the beginning of the song, and the video ends.

Soul scrambles to log into his student portal and replays the video. Luck really is on his side he thinks as he chicken pecks out details on the assigned text box. First task of the school year officially done. All that's left is to print off syllabi for the week, and he can relax until tomorrow. He logs into the school's portal to search for his class information. All four syllabi pulled up, he clicks print and heads over to the printer.

Fundamentals of College Math, Historical Issues and Contemporary Man, First Year Symposia, one by one they file out of the printer. But the machine stops it's whirring before printing his Composition 1 syllabus, the empty tray light flickering. Of course. Soul searches the line of printers for a package of paper to no avail. A few more students crowd around to pick up their papers as well, and he's suddenly very concerned about a line forming before he can get help.

He stares over at the librarians behind the counter, silently begging someone, anyone to come help, until a blonde, pigtailed woman locks eyes with him. She must hear his plea as she picks up a large stack of textbooks, throws a new package of paper on the stack, and rushes over to him. Gently setting the stack down next to the printer, she gets to work.

"Out of paper again, huh? None of the professors want to print off syllabi this year, too, I guess." The girl neatly places a new stack of paper in the tray, closing it with a smile. "There! That should do it!" she says as the printer whirs up again. Soul nods his thanks and grabs the newly printed sheets. "Azusa for Composition, huh?" She must have caught the header on his piece.

"Uh, yeah. What, did you have her for class or something?" He's fixated on her pigtails. Were they chosen for functionality or are they just her style? It seems a little silly, a young woman her age styling her hair so childishly.

"Yeah, she can be kinda harsh. I mean, in the long run, it really helped my writing, but I remember not appreciating it so much when I was taking the class." Her hand thrusts forward, nearly jabbing him in the chest. "I'm Maka, by the way. Sophomore English major. Lived in Vegas all my life. And you are?"

Nervous. Stupid. Sweating. "Soul. Freshman from Connecticut. Undecided." He takes her hand, and she shakes ever so slightly. He's used to bigger handshakes than hers.

"If you ever need someone to proofread, you know, outside of your classmates, I'm usually here in the evenings on the second floor, back corner. Can't miss it!" She smiles at him and lets go of his hand. "Good luck! It's not the worst course I've taken, so you should be fine. I'm done with work for the day, so I'll see you around!" And with that, she grabs her stack of books from next to the printer and heads upstairs, taking the steps two at a time.

He remains rooted for a moment before noticing an irritated student waiting for his own printed papers and moves back to his backpack. There is a sudden urge to follow her. Why, he isn't sure. But Soul knows he needs friends in order to survive the semester, and they've already introduced themselves. Now all that's left is to follow her and initiate conversation. The hard part's over, there are no excuses. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and makes his way up the stairs after her.

Maka had been right, he really can't miss the corner she sits in, laughing with her dark-haired friend. There is a direct path over to their small table surrounded with armchairs. As he gets closer, Soul realizes that the woman sitting with her is Tsubaki.

Waving at him, she calls in a somewhat hushed voice, "Soul! Go ahead and take a seat, I haven't seen you since our floor meeting!" He does as he's told while Tsubaki introduces him to Maka as a resident on her floor. "How did the first day of classes go?"

He shrugs. "Standard stuff. Just finished my first assignment, actually. Um, she… Maka, here, she helped me with the printer, so we just met."

Maka giggles. "I'm glad I could help!"

Soul smiles shyly at her, heart still lodged in his throat at the sound, and turns back to Tsubaki. "Actually, I'm glad I ran into you. I didn't get the info on how to connect to the Wifi on my laptop, and figuring it out myself didn't really work…"

Her hands fly to her mouth before she exclaims, "I'm so sorry about that! It's been a crazy couple of days, I'm sure it's been hard to get a hold of me! Do you have your laptop with you?"

Nodding, he pulls it from his bag. Tsubaki plucks it from him and works on connecting the Wifi while Soul fidgets with his fingers, occasionally glancing over to Maka across from him. "So… I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

"No, no, we were just considering going out to eat," Maka replies, shaking her head. "I haven't been to Cloud Nine in a while, so we were talking about going there."

"Ah. Cool." His mind berates him that he should say more, ask to join them, be social for two seconds. But suddenly his laptop is put in his face, completely connected and ready to go.

Tsubaki grabs her bag and stands. "Did you want to join us? If we're going at all, we should go now before the rush comes in."

"You sure I won't be intruding…?"

Jumping up as well, Maka shakes her head. "No, not at all! You should definitely come with!"

A silly grin tugs at Soul's lips. As he gathers his things and follows the two out of the library, he makes a mental note to listen to gut feelings more often. Clearly they are working for him.

…

Cloud Nine has a strange feeling of cozy coffee shop meets fine dining, but with a bar thrown in the center of the dining area for good measure. The restaurant is fairly empty for early afternoon, only a few customers dressed in business casual seem to remain from the lunch rush. Maka leads the group to the bar and motions for Soul to take the seat on her right as Tsubaki takes the left. A shock of blue hair bounces up from under the bar, and the owner rests his arm on the counter.

"Hello, ladies! What can I get you?" he asks, eyes focused on Tsubaki. The bartender notices Soul and leans more towards him. "Jeez, Maka, why do you keep hiding all your attractive friends from me?"

Soul sits frozen on the stool. He's being compared to Tsubaki?

Maka rolls her eyes. "Soul, this is my childhood friend, Blake. Blake, new friend, Soul."

"I thought I was your only guy friend? What gives? Not that I wouldn't mind him hanging around all the time, but still."

Maka's emerald eyes flash with a fiery intensity that makes Soul promise himself he'll never discuss how childish he thinks her hairstyle is. "Quit flirting for two seconds and try to make a good impression!" She sets a hand on Soul's shoulder, causing him to flinch. She either doesn't notice or is too focused on introductions to care. "Blake's really a good friend, even if he's a bit over-the-top sometimes. I'm sure you'll get along just fine. I mean if you wanted to come with us to the bar again sometime." Soul doesn't respond. "Hey, are you okay?"

Thumbs twiddling in his lap, Soul can't help but grin. So he wasn't being compared to Tsubaki, at least not like a girl. He passed, he really passed! Not just as some ambiguous student, but a guy, an (apparently) attractive guy!

Blake slams his hand down on the bar in front of Soul, startling him, before leaning in close. "I know my presence can be intimidating, and I'm sorry for that. Maybe we can hang out sometime, just you and me?" The bartender punctuates it with a wink.

Maka slaps his arm while Tsubaki stifles a giggle.

Awkwardly chuckling, Soul replies, "I, uh, hate to break it to you, but I'm… not really into dudes." It's a step. A baby step, but it's a step in the right direction. Sexuality and gender kinda go hand in hand, so maybe this is good practice.

Shrugging, Blake says, "Thems the breaks. Friends it is then. So, amigo, what'll you have?"

It's so dead at the bar that Blake ends up pulling up a stool next to him, and the four of them talk about anything and everything. Well, mostly the three of them, but Soul does his best to contribute to the conversation.

"So, Tsu, the little shits on your floor behaving so far?" Blake says, getting up from his seat to sling an arm around the tall girl.

"A few roommate squabbles about cleaning the bathrooms, but that's about it really. Someone may end up switching to a different floor, but what can you do?" Tsubaki continues to sip her Sprite with Blake's arm still on her shoulders, and Maka tries not to laugh at them.

The blonde ends up offering her seat to Blake so she can sit next to Soul. "Easier for them to make heart eyes next to each other that way rather than from across the bar or across you," she explains in a hushed voice. "Maybe someday they'll figure it out, but not today."

He nods, watching the two gossip and laugh. "How long you guys known each other?"

"Well, like I said before, Blake and I grew up together. His dad was our Middle School teacher, pretty nice guy. Tsubaki and I met last year actually. She was behind on her Humanities requirements, and we ended up in the same class. The first time those to met, he was drunk and trying to take a picture of her with his hands. Like he was holding a camera, you know? And the rest is history." She stretches an arm out along the bar and rests her head on it, glancing over at the two. "It's funny, we all became friends so quickly and yet none of us have ever really questioned if we'd be friends for a really long time or not. Sometimes you just know, you know?"

He doesn't know. At least he thinks he doesn't. Friends of necessity throughout his childhood never felt like they'd be around for a while. But this rare moment with Maka and her friends in a slowly filling restaurant feels like what she is talking about. Maybe.

…

The dinner rush moves in not long after the trio receives their meals, and Blake is suddenly a blue blur behind the bar. The group moves to a table to finish their food and files out, waving to the bartender as they leave.

"So how was it?" Maka asks Soul once outside.

"Good. Really good. Thanks again. You know, for inviting me." Getting tongue-tied over simple things is driving him crazy.

"Well, Tsubaki did the inviting, but I'm glad you agreed to come with! We should do this again sometime! I gotta get going though, maybe I'll see you around!" Somehow she manages to bound down the street away from campus with the same energy she had in the library. He wonders how she can remain so chipper.

Once Maka leaves the two of them alone, the walk to the dorms is very quiet. Tsubaki is an RA, her job is to remain friendly but not play favorites. He wonders if this is the last time the four of them will hang out like this, and he can feel the rift between them begin to form.

"Taken any thought to the different clubs on campus?"

Small talk. She's back to doing her job. "Not exactly, haven't really looked yet though," Soul replies.

"There's a lot of great programs on campus. Plenty of, um… inclusive ones."

He raises a brow in confusion. "Inclusive?"

"Yes, like LGBT. Since you did say you 'aren't really into dudes'. Or when Blake said-" Tsubaki cuts herself off, pausing on the sidewalk.

"When he said what?"

She turns toward him and smiles softly. "Honestly I shouldn't assume things, but… What I mean to say is that if you feel like you need a safe space, my door is always open. I want to take good care of my girls… and my boys." Her feet shuffle awkwardly beneath her as she lets her words sink in. "Well, rounds will be starting soon, so I'd better get going. It was really nice spending time together like this. I'll see you around, Soul."

He's left on a lonely sidewalk, accompanied only by his confusing feelings. Happiness, suspicion, acceptance, worry.


	3. The Emptiness the Whole World Sings at Night

It's way too early for anyone to be working on homework in the library. And yet Soul sits at the table closest to the door, his head popping up between every few minutes of pencil-tapping to see if she's walked in yet. The idea that he is like a puppy waiting for his owner to come home crosses his mind, but he tries to shake it away. The library is just how he had made first contact with potential friends. Naturally it would make sense that spending time there would mean more time with said potential friends, or, even better, meeting new potential friends. So after running into each other over the course of a week, waiting for Maka has become a habit of his.

The sound of the library door softly closing makes him perk up. He notices pink hair and immediately turns his attention to his open English notes. If it's Kim, he isn't ready to deal with the dragon lady yet. But the pink-haired person is either Kim avoiding him or someone else entirely as they move past him to a nearby table. Head still down, he hears a soft voice sigh, "Another octogonal day… don't know how to deal with this..."

Soul chances a glance toward the distressed student. Chin resting in the palm of their hand, they appear to be scrolling absentmindedly through a page on their laptop. Whatever they're looking at exactly, he can't be sure. With how tired the student appears and how choppy their bright pink hair is, he wonders how many other things the student doesn't know how to deal with.

"People watching?" a bubbly voice says next to him, startling him back to his notes. Of course Maka would appear as he's staring at strange students. "Sure doesn't look like you're getting much studying done," she giggles.

"Just got distracted for a minute," he grumbles.

She pulls up a seat across the table from him, unloading the contents of her backpack. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were stalking me."

Soul sputters a moment, head nearly touching his notes as he tries to hide his blush. Once composed again, he clears his throat and explains, "We just so happen to have similar schedules I guess. That and company that actually wants to chat is rare around here."

"Sure, uh huh." She shoves an open palm in his direction. "Gimme your phone so that we don't have to 'just so happen' to run into each other anymore."

He gauges her for a moment, trying to see how serious she is. When her fingers flex in a "come on" motion, he hesitantly digs his phone out of his pocket to hand to her. A content smile graces her face as she enters her phone number into the device. He still can't get a good read on her. "So what, does this make us friends now?"

"That's what I was thinking," she says matter-of-factly. Like it's the simplest thing, really. He wonders if Maka Albarn has ever struggled to make friends a day in her life. His phone slides across the table back to him. "There, now go ahead and text me so I have your number."

As he picks up his phone again, Soul tries to figure out what exactly to send. "This is Soul" seems way too formal for Maka; she'll probably just laugh at how stiff he's being despite now being friends. What do friends text each other? An idea comes to mind, but he isn't sure how she'll react. Throwing caution to the wind, he takes a deep breath and types out his message, and soon her phone buzzes next to her notebook.

Opening the text, she scowls at the word "dork" glaring back at her. "Guess how you're being saved in my phone," she retorts, trying to hide the smile forming.

Inwardly, he breathes a sigh of relief. Outwardly, he shrugs. This is how friends are supposed to interact. "How could I possibly guess such a thing?"

Maka flips through the pages of her textbook before settling on whatever reading she needs. Notebook open and pen at the ready, she focuses in on her studies. Her pen wiggles back and forth between her fingers as she leans her face on her free hand. "I'm happy for you," she says after a few moments of silence. "You seem to have come out of your shell, if only a little bit."

Soul scratches the back of his neck. "I don't feel like I've changed much."

"You have. A little."

There's a "thank you" owed to her somewhere. He wants to blurt out that he's willing to try coming out of his shell now because of her, but the words don't come. Instead he pretends to focus on his own notes. Earlier that week, Asuza revealed that the class was to explain the meaning behind the music video each of them had chosen. She had originally said to pick a somewhat strange video, but Soul is now regretting exactly how strange a choice he made.

"Having trouble there?" Maka's voice pipes up. Before he can reply, she slides his notebook away from him and scans the page where he'd rewritten his notes on the video. "Ah, analyzing videos. Fun stuff. Are you supposed to figure out what all of it means?"

He nods. "It's not the weirdest music video I've seen, but can't seem to make heads or tails of it."

Nodding, she focuses back on his handwriting, trying to decipher his chicken scratch. After a moment of humming in concentration, she says, "The woman is doing rituals this says? Involving artifacts related to the band. Starlight…" Her fingers drum on the table. "Maybe the band is like gods? That she's doing the rituals for? They make music… and these people wake up. So music is life then, right?"

Soul reaches for his notes, and she gladly returns them to him. Mulling over her answer, he thinks back to the video again. It still doesn't explain how the woman looks at the world in tinted colors, but he scribbles down the blonde's answer for later anyway. "Thanks, I'd've stared at this for hours if you hadn't come along."

"Always glad to help," she says, giving a sort of bow from her seat. Soul exhales through his nose at her. She continues, "I kinda like that answer. That music is life. It's so colorful and moves people. Very different than written word can. I've always kind of been jealous of musicians in that way."

He chuckles. "Please, I'm sure you could bring a man to tears with anything you wrote, Miss English Major."

"Maybe." Her face screws up in concentration all of a sudden. "You know, if I had a musical bone in my body, I'd probably play the trumpet." Soul sputters a bit at her, trying to keep his composure. "Why is that so funny?"

"Trust me, you aren't the type. Every trumpet player I ever met was a loud-mouthed asshole, you know?" As nice as he had been, Soul can't help but think of Blake being a better candidate for the trumpet than Maka.

"Ah, so you were a band geek in high school."

"Not… really?"

She leans back in her chair, eyebrow cocked in a skeptical look. "How'd you get to be a trumpet player expert then?"

"Met my fair share at regional music contests." He watches her eyes widen, fully expecting her to press with more questions. Instead, she waits patiently for him to continue, silently urging him to elaborate. He sighs in defeat. How can those eyes get him to talk so much? "Pianist. Been playing since I was little."

"But you aren't a music major? When we met, you said you were undecided."

"That's a can of worms I really don't wanna open right now." It's dumb. He knows it's really dumb, but music doesn't belong to him. It's always been Wes's and their mother's. There's no point in pursuing it.

Maka nods, lips pursed like she wants to ask more but knows she really shouldn't. "Any ideas what you do want to do?"

"Not a one."

Their conversation has turned into a stare-down. Soul is certain those eyes will get him to talk more as he hears her foot tapping under the table, but instead of pressing further, she rips a corner of her notebook out and scrawls on it. Thrusting it towards him, she says, "Go to the counseling office. Talk to Marie. When I first got to college, it was a weird transition even though I wasn't leaving home. She's really great. Maybe you can talk to her about school stuff?"

His fingers twitch next to his own notebook. He really should take the note. As a bag of anxiety and mixed, unruly emotions trying to pass as a human being, he'd certainly have a lot more to talk about than just academics. But counseling always kind of felt like giving up in a sense. Like he wasn't strong enough to stick it out on his own.

Maka fans the note in his face. "Just take it, okay? I'm not saying you have to go, just that it could help."

Lip lodged between his teeth, he takes the paper from her. She's his friend now. Friends only want what's best for you. He looks up from the note to her to find she looks almost relieved. He is too. _Friends_.

...

He really hopes that he hasn't used up all his luck for the year in the first week of school alone. On a whim, he had decided to call the counseling office to see if they had any available time slots this week. As luck would have it, Marie did in fact have a time available, this very day. So Soul sits in the campus counseling centers' green-themed lobby, filling out his information before the woman can see him.

There are a few others waiting for their appointment as well. A girl in the corner silently fills out her own paperwork, leg bouncing as she scribbles. Occasionally she glances up at the abstract artwork on the wall above his chair, but she never makes eye contact with him. Across from him sits a boy, hands buried in pockets, head bobbing to whatever music he has blasting through his earphones. The receptionist types away at her computer, occasionally pacing over to the filing cabinet across from her desk. No one says a word.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

If he's going to to bail on his appointment, he had better do it now, he figures. Pen and paper still in hand, he rises from his seat, but the receptionist catches his movement. "Are you all finished? Marie will be with you in just a couple minutes, I can take that sheet if you're done," she says, reaching her hand over the desk towards him. He hopes it really will only take a couple more minutes of painfully quiet waiting. The woman takes the paper from him and asks him to take his seat once more, and he does as instructed.

A door down the hall opens, and a sweet voice echoes out into the waiting room, "That's really exciting! You're all set with an appointment for next week right?" A blonde woman enters the room, her current client by her side confirming their next meeting. Soul can't help but notice the woman's eyepatch. "Glad to hear it. Hope classes go easy on you this week. We'll see you next time!" She waves at the student as they leave and turns to the rest of the room. "Soul Evans?"

Deep breath. He raises his hand slightly, cautiously rising out of his seat.

"Come on back, it's nice to meet you!" she greets, waving him with her down the hall.

Their footsteps echo loudly off the walls of the hallways that seems to grow longer with each step he takes. It shouldn't feel like this. Like he's going to his death. She seems nice, she's here to help. So why is he so terrified all of a sudden? Eventually they make it to her office, and she ushers him in, offering either of the two armchairs to him. He picks the one closest to the door and watches her close it and sit at the swivel chair in front of her desk a moment, typing in what is probably an update that Soul arrived.

He takes this moment to snoop from his seat. Her master's hangs on the wall above her desk, right next to the window. There's another abstract painting on the wall opposite that seems to be from the same collection as the one in the lobby. Marie's desk is littered in papers and sticky notes with no real rhyme or reason, no neat piles or anything. Surrounding her computer monitor are a few personal photographs of her and a silver-haired man. In what appears to be their wedding photo, he can't help but notice that she still has an eyepatch and the man has a deep scar across his face. An apparently older photo nearby shows the two without these features, and he wonders just what happened to them.

Once Marie is finished with whatever her task was and closes the program, her background appears, set as an image of a little blonde girl with a lightning bolt-shaped barrett in her hair and adorable smile on her face. The counselor takes a seat in the armchair opposite him, crosses her legs, and laces her fingers around her knee. A notepad and pen lay on the side table next to her. It feels like an interview he never prepared for.

"So, Soul, right? That's a very unique name. My name is Marie. It's nice to meet you!"

"Likewise." He feels incredibly too small for the oversized chair.

"I know counseling can be really hard to get started with, but I want you to know I'm glad you're here, and I look forward to working with you! I'd like to kind of get a feel for you and what's happening in your life right now, if that's okay with you?" She leans back and smiles softly at him. "I know you're probably sick of this series of questions by now, but mind telling me where you're from? Maybe what you're studying?"

Soul picks at the seam along the outside of his jeans, eyes focused on her eyepatch still. Here goes nothing. "I'm from Connecticut. Just kinda… working on Gen Eds right now."

"No major in mind?"

"Not yet." Let the judgement commence. The series of questions, the poking and prodding at his musical insides.

"That's okay. You know, when I started college, I thought I'd be an Elementary teacher. But here I am! That's the nice thing about college, you get to change and explore and invent yourself." Marie grabs the notepad beside her and scribbles down what he assumes are his answers thus far. "What about family? Do they all live in Connecticut still?"

"Yeah. Brother and parents."

"How's life with them?"

"Wes is… probably the closest to me. Dad's busy with his work and Mom…" Certainly not Mom-of-the-Year, but he's not really giving her enough credit, he thinks. "She's passionate."

"Why go so far away?"

"My folks ask me the same thing. I guess to just… get away for a while?" It feels like a lie as it falls from his mouth. But a half-lie? He can't and doesn't want to explain it.

"Nothing wrong with that. Everyone needs a change of scenery once in awhile."

She's way too sweet, and lying is wrong. "More than that… I think, if I'd stayed, it'd be suffocating. Here there's hardly any expectations of me. There… they'd be breathing down my neck every step of the way."

Marie hums a moment, placing her palm against her cheek and closing her eye. "Well, Soul, what do you want to accomplish here? Provided you want to continue seeing me, of course. You aren't required to, and quite frankly I can just be a sounding board if you need. We don't have to have any plan or dig very deep. You make this time what you need."

What he needs? Even he isn't sure. But Marie can only help. She certainly wouldn't be here if she wish any ill will on him. He nods reassuringly to himself. "Cool if we… play it by ear?"

She chuckles. "Of course. Counseling is different for everyone. If we need to cut our time short today and pick up another time, that's fine, it's what you need. Feel free to set up another appointment with me whenever you're ready."

"Thanks."

Marie waves to him as he heads back down the hall and out of the lobby. Opening up is exhausting. Figuring out how he feels and what he wants to do with those feelings is exhausting. Napping is not exhausting and definitely in his future.

...

"~Play us a song, you're the Piano Man~" rings out from his night stand, waking him from his nap. Soul had been right to think Maka had taken too long to simply put her number into his phone. His ability to play piano is probably the school's worst kept secret. He brings the phone up to his ear and yawns out a "Hello?"

A soft sob and a hiccup return the greeting. "Soul? Is it okay if I come over? I just… can't be home right now." Her voice doesn't sound like her own. This isn't the Maka he has gotten to know in the last few weeks. His heart sinks. What could have possibly happened at home to make her cry like this?

A tiny burst of panic fills his chest as he remembers that she has never been in his room before. Is it presentable enough for guests? Will she laugh at his collections? He's never been alone in a room with girl when presenting as male, so how should he act? What if his secret is revealed? He's very tempted to tell her that it isn't the best time, but another sob from Maka reminds him that he must set aside his nervousness and help his friend. "Y-yeah, just meet me at the front desk, I'll let you in! Tonopah Center!"

"Thank you," she sniffles. "I'll be there in a few."

The call disconnects, and Soul brings the phone to his chest. Hopefully the night won't end in disaster.

…

Maka takes a moment to wander around his room despite him telling her to take a seat and make herself comfortable. "I've never actually seen the dorms before, so this is kinda cool. And this is all to yourself, too?" She plops down on the foot of his bed, still drinking in the room.

"All but the bathroom. I share it with a dragon lady," he cringes. Striding over to his newly acquired bookshelf, he runs a finger along the spines of DVD cases. "What do you want to do? Watch a movie?"

She shrugs. "Whatever you want to do."

She's one of THOSE guests. Taking a seat on the floor next to her legs, he says, "You seemed really upset on the phone. Did you… did you wanna talk about it?"

Maka pulls her feet up onto the bed to sit cross-legged. "It's stupid, really. I don't know why I let it get to me…"

Soul's head tilts back to try to look at her. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Not buying it."

She fiddles with her toes a bit before sighing. "It's been a long time since the divorce, Papa has every right to move on if he wants to. It just… bothers me whenever I see him with anyone but Mama, you know? There was once a time when I thought that theirs was the kind of love everyone should have. A perfect love. Guess they were just good at sweeping all their problems under the rug, at least for a while…" He looks up at her, concern flickering in his eyes. She flops backwards, lying down on the bed. "What am I doing? 'Tragic backstory' is Friendship Level Four or Five, right? We're at, what? Two? Maybe Three?"

He chuckles. Friendship Level Three? He's honored to have even reached Level Two. The mattress creaks above him, and he turns to watch Maka climb off the bed towards the bathroom.

"Be right back," she says, closing the door behind her.

A perfect love, that's what Maka had said. Soul can't remember a time he had seen something similar to a "perfect love". Do his parents love each other? Probably. Even if they don't, they would never file for a divorce, because what would his grandparents think? He supposes his parents could put up with each other to keep up their good Christian image if only for the sake of their children. He knows for certain that he has never felt a perfect love before. But who knows, college has a lot of attractive girls he could potentially fall for. Maka included, his brain suggests. He shakes his head to try to clear his thoughts. They are only at Friendship Level Three, best not to go there.

Maka returns from the bathroom, eyes wide and lips pursed. Silently, she pads over to the bed to take a seat, leaning her elbows on her knees.

"What's up?"

"I think… your neighbor is having sex."

"What?" He heads for the bathroom to find out for himself, only to freeze in the doorway once he hears a very loud moan coming from Kim's room. Hand rubbing the back of his neck, he backpedals and closes the bathroom door with his free hand. "B-but who? And why?"

The two stare at each other in stunned silence for a moment before Maka starts giggling. It's contagious, and soon the two are laughing uncontrollably. It feels good to laugh like this. When was the last time he'd done this?

Finally calming down, Maka turns to him and asks, "Do you mind if I stay the night? Just this once?"

The same panic from their earlier phone call is back. "I.. dunno if that's such a good idea. Won't your dad be upset if you stay out all night?"

Maka shrugs. "I'm safe at the dorms, right? I mean, I know you're into girls, but you wouldn't try anything with me, would you? That's probably Papa's main concern, me getting mixed up with bo-." She pauses for a moment, staring at the bathroom door. "I guess… I'm not sure how to ask but…"

Here it comes. The moment he has dreaded since arriving in Vegas. He isn't ready, not at all. It's hot, way too hot, he can't breathe. He wants to scramble for the window and open it, but he doesn't want to startle Maka, to let her know that he's a total mess right now.

"I really don't want to sound rude, but… I thought it was weird you live on the girls' side of the floor. When we came down the hallway, it was all girl names except for yours. But I thought you were…"

He swallows hard. "I am. I'm a guy. Sorta." He hadn't prepared for this. Flying by the seat of his pants, he continues, "Mom helped me fill out my housing application, and well… I've always been her little girl. So, here I am."

The silence is suffocating. Maka's eyebrows knit together, as if she's trying to make sense of all this. A finger taps along the side of her face as she takes in this new information. "So what you're saying is, you are a man."

"Yes."

"But you might be missing some… equipment?"

"Correct." He wishes his replies weren't so robotic, but it's the only way to appear put together right now.

"And you are into girls?"

"Yup."

"Meaning you are straight."

"As an arrow."

The tapping continues, and he cautiously awaits judgement. She giggles. "Papa's gonna be pissed when he finds out I stayed the night at a boy's room." Those big, beautiful, kind eyes meet his, and she smiles at him. "Thanks for telling me, Soul. I might not really understand, but… if you haven't even told your family yet, that must have been really hard. You're pretty brave."

He's crying. Not really sure when it began, he doesn't care. He was prepared for her to look at him like a crazy person, like he was the scum of the earth. He had heard all his life 'God doesn't make mistakes', but she doesn't look at him like a heathen. He places the palms of his hand on his eyes and tries to catch the sobs in his throat. Maka pads over to him and wraps her arms around him.

"Friendship Level Five?" she asks, stroking his hair. He laughs a bit through his crying and nods, resting his chin on her shoulder. "So I… never really got a yes on if I can stay the night?"

He breaks away from her, wiping away tears from his eyes. "Y-Yeah, I don't mind. I've got some extra blankets, so you take the bed."

Crossing her arms and pouting, she says, "No, sir, I'm imposing, so you have your bed."

"Maybe next time," he chuckles, heading over to the closet to grab his bedding for the night.

"Next time, huh?"

He freezes, a blush painting his face, and Maka laughs. A small shake of his head, and he's back to the bedding, thinking how lucky he is to have met someone like her. The two get their beds ready for the night, and Soul grabs a DVD from his bookshelf for them to watch as they fall asleep.

…

The next morning, Soul opens the bathroom door to see a young woman with black hair halfway through Kim's door. She blushes and retreats into the room, hurriedly giving him first dibs. He recognizes her from his math class. Jacqueline or something like that?

In any case, the mystery of who could possibly want to sleep with Kim is solved.

He graciously accepts first dibs and jumps into the shower. Maka sound asleep in his bed has got to be the strangest thing he's ever seen, he thinks. Thank goodness it's Saturday and he can let her sleep in, but he worries what wrath she'll face once she gets home. As a high schooler, his mother had always had a strict curfew in place, and while Maka is no high schooler, he can't help but worry about Mr. Albarn's thoughts on her being out all night. Especially out with _him_ all night.

His head hangs, letting water drip from his bangs and down the bridge of his nose. Thoughts drift from Maka to his session with Marie. Should he continue? Will it really change anything? Soul takes a deep breath and leans his head back, allowing the water to cascade over his face. Nothing ever can change if you don't finish what you've started. Once Maka's up and out of his room, he'll call up the counseling center.

College is all about change, right?


	4. A Positive Influence on My Mental Frame

"You need a more positive attitude."

"I'm positive I'm going to fail math."

Maka taps a finger on her crossed arms, scowling at him. "If you'd just listen to what I have to say instead of arguing with me every step of the way, you might just learn something."

Soul lays his arm across his notes and rests his cheek on his forearm. Math tutors are for dumb kids, not for Evans. At least, that's how the saying goes. But with midterms coming up and no other options, he has no choice but to recruit Maka in an early morning study session in his room. Or rather, after begging her to come over for their weekly movie night despite upcoming exams, he sort of gladly accepted her deal to study first thing in the morning.

"It isn't naptime, Soul, we have to focus!" Maka exclaims. "What aren't you getting about this problem?"

"All of it," he replies through gritted teeth. "Couldn't even tell you what formula you're s'posed to use."

"I think you're full of it," she sighs before turning to flop on his bed. Soul turns his head to rest his other cheek on his arm and let him watch Maka as she swipes a hand over her face. "I think you do actually know this stuff, you just need some sort of motivation other than just grades. That's it!" she exclaims, snapping her fingers and causing him to jolt up from his desk. Maka sits up and leans on her arms on the edge of the bed. "Let's say you get an A on this midterm. You get to pick whatever prize you want."

"And if I don't?" The option he feels is far more likely.

"Blake's been wanting to go to the Rebels-Wolf Pack game. Guess who gets to tag alongside his loud mouth?" She flashes him a Cheshire grin, and he sets his forehead directly on the desk this time. Maybe his time would be better spent trying to memorize the school's fight song.

...

"Yo! You made it!" Blake shouts, punching a fist towards him for a fist bump. Soul offers probably the weakest bump ever, but Blake only barely shows his disappointment. "You ready for the game, dude? We're gonna kick some ass!"

An equally weak smile. Soul is way out of his element. The nice thing about playing piano: no pep band, meaning no sporting events that count for your participation grade. Sure, he'd enjoyed some basketball during PE, but this? A college football stadium full of rowdy fans shoving everyone to watch a bunch of buff dudes pass a ball around? Not really his cup of tea.

"The girls were searchin' for some grub, they're probably waiting around for us," Blake says, throwing an arm around Soul's shoulders.

He can feel the bartender gently tugging him towards the sea of people closer to the stadium, so he sighs and puts on his best smirk. "Can't leave a lady waiting."

Blake slaps a hand on his back. "'Atta boy!" He leads the way towards the stadium, shoving through the crowd of people with Soul in his wake. He almost misses Tsubaki waving a Coke can in the air as he continues crashing through the people.

"Blake! Over here, I found some of my residents! They have food!" she calls out to him as she attempts to meet him halfway. As they meet, Tsubaki's eyes land on Soul. "Glad to see you could make it! You hadn't decorated your door for the game, I didn't think you were interested in coming."

Soul scratches the back of his head with the best smirk he can manage. "I had a little encouragement," he admits. Attempting to look past his RA, he asks, "Where's Maka anyway?" She had better still be there, he thinks. No way will he let her skip out on this if he's stuck having to go to the game.

Tsubaki whirls around and scans the crowd for the girl. With her height, it doesn't take too long for her to point her out. This time, Soul takes the lead and attempts to clear a path toward Maka. She's mid-bite into a hotdog when he taps her on the shoulder.

Bringing her food down, she snickers at him, "You actually came."

"You knew there was no way I was getting an A, so are you really surprised?" He points to her hotdog. "You get that from Rose and company?"

She takes another bite and nods. "Go get one, they're great," she says, words muffled by food still in her mouth.

He does as he's told, walking up to the nearby pickup to grab a hotdog from the grill cook. Rose, a girl from his floor, offers him a Sprite, and he gladly takes it, ducking away as quickly as possible to avoid more conversation than is absolutely necessary. As he tries to make his way back, Soul realizes he may have lost Maka. Certain he sees Tsubaki's high ponytail, he fights his way through the crowd to grab her by the shoulder.

The girl turns around to reveal that she's actually Jacqueline and very confused. "S-sorry, about everything!" he stammers. She looks like she's about to speak, but once he catches a glimpse of Kim's bright hair nearby, Soul decides to bolt. He feels sort of bad about it. Jackie's always quiet, but at least somewhat nice in their math class, and here he's left her in dazed confusion twice now.

Eventually it's Blake who finds him, pushing him even closer to the stadium. "We gotta go now! They're bringing out the cannon!"

Soul's eyes nearly bug out of his head. "Cannon! What cannon?"

"Fremont Cannon, now let's get a move on! The girls are finding us a seat!"

Maka and Tsubaki wave the boys down once they see them, having found open seats near a railing. Soul and the girls claim their seats while Blake leans over the railing to watch staff roll out a red, replica howitzer. "So what's with the cannon?" Soul turns to Maka and asks.

"School tradition," she shrugs. "Part of the schools' rivalry. Whoever wins the game gets to take home their 'trophy'. We just got it back this last year, I doubt anyone wants to lose it again so soon. That's why doofus over there is so excited."

Soul turns his attention over to "doofus" who gets even more pumped when the long-moustached mascot, Hey Reb, takes the field, dancing around and generally trying to hype up the crowd. Tsubaki ends up dragging him back to their seats by the arm, settling him between herself and Maka. Soul isn't sure if it's to block in Blake or to give the quiet one, him, some space from the doofus. Either way, he's grateful.

The marching band starts up the Rebel fight song, and Soul is still definitely out of his element. Blake claps enthusiastically to the beat, shouting, not singing, along while Tsubaki cringes and tries to sing in tune. "Win with the Rebels a victory today! Win with the Rebels, the Scarlet and Gray!" Maka doesn't sing, instead doing her best to keep a steady rhythm with the band. The rest of the audience can't seem to do the same, as they, too, shout out the words off tempo.

Soul does his best to remain positive. Hopefully his companions are having a good time, and maybe it'll rub off on him. He certainly doesn't want to be the downer of the group.

The song eventually ends, and suddenly the teams are ready for the kickoff. No one in their vicinity is quite as intense about the start of the game as Blake, and it makes Soul want to disappear in his seat. Maka, who sits right next to the animated man, seems to feel the same way as she shares pursed-lipped, eyebrow-raised looks with him. Her looks change the situation from cringey to comedy, and he fights the urge to laugh.

"C'mon, Ref, what the hell was that?!" Blake shouts, rising from his seat. "Do! You! Have! Eyes?!"

Soul turns to Maka to see if she has another hilarious reaction to find that she, too, has risen from her seat. "That was holding, you idiot! What are you doing out there!" she shouts out to the field.

He looks past the blonde to Tsubaki, and the two can't help but laugh at their friends. Especially at Maka. For someone who had shrugged off the big rivalry, she sure is into the game.

...

"Can't _believe_ we had to give the cannon back," Blake laments as the group steps out of the stadium.

"When you get that far behind in the first half, what do you expect?" Tsubaki teases.

He clasps his heart and feigns pain. "Why taunt me like this, Tsu? Can't you see I'm already hurtin'? It's been back and forth for, what? The last four years? Can't we just keep it for a little while longer?"

"Losers don't get to keep trophies," Soul joins in. Maka giggles at the group.

"Not cool, dude. Just.. not cool…" Once they've all made it down the stairs, Blake starts walking backwards, hands clasped behind his head now. "Any chance you guys wanna after-game party? Tsu?" He waggles his eyebrows at her.

She does her best to look very professional. "Not me, I have to go make sure no one's partying too hard in the dorms."

Blake pouts. "Maks?"

Shaking her head, she explains, "I should really rest my voice after all the yelling we did."

He turns to Soul, arms outstretched. "Soul, my man!"

"Reached my daily quota for socializing today and then some. Maybe next time," he answers with a sigh.

Blake scoffs at them, throwing his hands up in defeat. "You're all lame! Have fun being killjoys!" He stops in his tracks, letting the group continue ahead of him. They don't want to give into his antics, but Soul chances a look back over his shoulder. The sea of people exited the stadium has already devoured him.

Tsubaki bids the remain two farewell before taking off in the direction of the Tonopah Complex, leaving Soul behind to walk Maka to her car.

"You never did tell me what grade you go on that math midterm," she finally speaks up once the crowd has dispersed enough that they don't feel the need to shout over them.

"Low B."

Maka laughs. "Better than you thought, huh? I had a feeling a little extra push would help. I'm still surprised you showed up though. It's not like we shook on it or anything."

He shrugs and answers honestly, "I like hanging with you guys. But, uh, can we never do this again? I've decided I hate football." She laughs again as they make it to her car. "I'll catch you later then. Rest up that voice."

"Sure thing. Have a good night." Maka ducks into her vehicle and starts it up.

Soul backs away so she can pull out of the lot without running over his foot or something. His gaze lingers on her vehicle as she leaves, breaking only when another car honks at him to move out of the way. It really had been a good day, he thinks, all things considered.

…

"Everybody out of the pool!" Blake shouts, shoving the car keys in his pocket and jumping out of the vehicle. Soul and Maka follow suit, the former drinking in their stop.

The pumpkin patch is flooded with people, many of whom form an impressive line for the corn maze near the back of the lot. Nothing more festive than searching for the perfect gourd to gut with your friends, surrounded by the screams of lost and terrified children.

"Not near as fun without Tsu," Blake mumbles, shielding his eyes from the low sun. "Alright, kiddos, we gotta find the perfect pumpkins for my house and Maka's house! Tsu said no pumpkins were allowed in the dorms, so Soul, your mission is to find the two tiniest pumpkins to sneak back with you. Got it?"

"Isn't she busy making paper ones instead of coming out with us _because_ they're not allowed to have pumpkins in the dorms?" Maka points out to him.

Blake shrugs. "Details, who needs 'em?" With that, he runs off in search of the best pumpkin to carve for later that night.

Soul turns to Maka to ask her what their plan is, but she has disappeared from his side. He scans the area for her, nearly getting knocked over by a very excited child, before he finally spots her. She practically skips across the patch, leaning over every so often to check out a pumpkin before moving on to the next one. He decides to sneak up on her, shouting "boo!" once he catches up.

She startles easily, but settles into annoyed very quickly. "That isn't funny."

"Just relax," he laughs. She pouts a bit at this, and it only makes him want to laugh more. "You sure seemed chipper. Are you really that into pumpkin patches?"

Maka hums in thought a moment before replying, "It's been so long since I've been to one. I think the last time we went was before I started high school. It was right before Mama found out Papa was cheating on her."

Children screech nearby as they wave their parents over to the "perfect pumpkin". Soul shoves his hands into his pockets. "You, uh, never mentioned that before."

"Huh. I guess I haven't." She kneels down next to a pumpkin, turning it over to inspect it. "In retrospect, their marriage was doomed from the start. No one should really be surprised it ended the way it did."

He squats down beside her. "Why's that?"

"Two kids, not even out of high school, pregnant at a time when you marry your baby daddy? Does any part of that sound like the romantic, 'till death do us part' kind of marriage to you?"

"I mean, they must have loved each other at some point, right?"

"Maybe." She turns the pumpkin over in her hands once more. "I can't help but feel like… Sometimes I feel like I was the reason it all ended this way."

"Okay, that's not tru-"

Maka throws the pumpkin into the dirt. "I am though! They decided to stick it out! For my sake! Neither of my parents went to college, I was the one holding them back!" Glancing up, she must notice bystanders watching them. "Go on, show's over," she calls weakly, picking herself up off the ground and walking away.

Soul picks up the abandoned pumpkin and finds that it's undamaged. Probably too small to carve properly, but definitely big enough to paint. Gourd in hand, he chases after Maka who has taken to watching the corn maze. He offers the pumpkin to her, but she ignores it.

"Parents really suck, huh?" he tries. Silence. He sighs. "Dunno if they ever mean to make you feel like shit, but they're good at it. You know there was once a time they didn't make you feel that way, but it's hard to pick out exactly when that feeling started. Like for me, the piano?"

Maka perks up at this, and he hands her the pumpkin once more. She takes it this time.

He continues, "Mom and Wes taught me C major way back when. I was hooked, I loved to play, and my folks praised me for it. Wes focused way more on his violin, and Mom started to get really serious about me playing piano. So we worked on technique all the time. And I was pretty good. Not Wes's level, never Wes's level, but decent. And as I got better, I changed things up a lot. Switched up the keys to songs, gave pieces my own flare. She hated it. Wes's music was always beautiful. Mine was a horrifying, jumbled mess."

"So you don't play."

"So I don't play. Every recital was terrifying, a whole lot of judgement in one room. And all I wanted to play was my music, but I had to do what Mom wanted. She wanted me to major in musical performance. So, here I am."

Maka's fingers drum on the skin of the pumpkin in her hands. "Sorry… I didn't know how much it bothered you."

"Being here helps a lot. Being away. Parents suck, but friends don't. Right?" He offers her a warm smile, and she returns it.

"Right."

"Guys!" Blake comes barreling up to them, one large pumpkin under each arm. "Found the perfect ones for me and Maks! You ready to gut these babies later?" He doesn't wait for Maka's response before focusing in on Maka's pumpkin. "Tsu's gonna love that one! Soul, buddy, we gotta get you one like that for your room!"

He shakes his head with an exasperated sigh. "Tsubaki's not gonna let either of us have a pumpkin in our room. That's just the rules."

"Screw the rules! You've got a friend in a high place! She can't really object if she's got one of her own! Let's get this show on the road! Yahoo!" Blake starts running to the front of the lot to go pay for the pumpkins. Soul and Maka share a look and start chasing after him, laughing the whole way.


	5. Leaky Sink of Sentiment

"Sorry 'bout this," Soul says, power walking to Marie's office with her in tow. Standing up straight for once, he realizes that he's actually quite a bit taller than his counselor. After all their sessions together, he's only now looking up and noticing? "I'm sure you've been swamped with people freaking over finals and getting ready to leave and -"

"It's no trouble!" she assures him between heavy breathing. Once they make it to her office, Soul swiftly takes his usual seat while Marie catches her breath in the doorway. "Is everything okay? You are never this distressed coming into our meetings."

"Maka's coming with me to Christmas with my family," he answers, eyes focused on a bird outside the window.

There's a beat of silence before the blonde sits in the armchair opposite him. "Is that not good news?"

His hands grasp at the arms of his chair tightly. "Terrifying actually."

"I don't think I understand. Maka is a very good friend, isn't she? I thought you'd be happy to have her along?" Marie leans her mouth on her knuckles, thinking over the situation.

"Great friend, absolutely, and I really should be happy she's coming along! With how often she stays over at my room, it'd be weird not having her around!"

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Oh? She's been staying over more than just the one time? Does that make you two a bit more tha-"

"No, no! Just… just friends!" he stammers out. He's certain his heart is attempting to betray him as it beats against his ribcage. His words hardly convince himself, who knows if they'll convince his counselor. "Whole week's just been really fucked up."

"How so?"

"For starters, Mom called. I mean, I don't blame her for being a little snippy, 'cause I basically fell out of existence, but -"

"What happened?"

Inhale. Exhale. "Kay, so…"

…

" _It's about time you answered the phone."_

" _Sorry, I've been really busy with finals." Free palm rubbing his eye, Soul leans back on the bench. A call from his mother is the last thing he needs right now. Or ever._

" _Not too busy to chat with your brother."_

_What a nark. "I had questions about my essay, he's always had a way with words, it made sense." He really doesn't want to have an argument outside for all to hear. Besides, he's got places to go, a person to see._

" _Wes has been our only means of communication with you! We just want to know that you're okay!" She takes a deep breath, probably trying to compose herself. "My little girl is so far away… I just worry about you…"_

_Teeth gnaw at his lower lip. He doesn't have the energy for the conversation they should really have. "I, um… wasn't really sure what Christmas was looking like. Planning-wise."_

" _Did your father not send you your ticket?!" There's a clatter that Soul can only assume is his mother setting down the phone. Far off voices shout at each other and shuffling. She's clearly mad. He honestly feels sorry for his old man and his forgetfulness. More clattering as his mother picks up the phone and continues, "He'll send it right away. We agreed you're coming home for Christmas, remember?"_

" _What I thought. Glad it's all sorted out."_

_It's uncomfortably quiet for a while. They were close once, a long time ago. But the last few years had seen their relationship become strained. Maybe it was her insistence that he pursue music the same way Wes had, the same way she had with the flute. Maybe it was him struggling to graduate high school, knowing full well his family would never accept him not going to college. Maybe it was the "my little girl" comments._

" _Well, everything you need for Christmas will be out to you as soon as possible," she finally says. "If anything comes up, you can always call us."_

" _I know."_

_His mother hums thoughtfully. "I guess planning for the holidays will just get more difficult now that you and Wes are all grown up. I'd better get used to it, huh?" She chuckles. "Just didn't think you'd grow up so fast… I love you, sweetie. I can't wait to have you home."_

" _Y-yeah. It'll be nice. I'll, uh, talk to you later then. Bye." Ending the call, Soul lets out a sigh. Family get-togethers shouldn't be exhausting. Are all families like this?_

…

"Then I realized I had a lunch date with Maka and just kinda booked it."

"Hey, no mention of piano though!" she replies, bouncing her crossed leg once almost like some sort of victory kick. "I know you were worried she'd get you to play."

Soul buries his face in his hands, grabbing a small tuft of hair as well. He mumbles out a barely audible, "I wrote her a song..."

"Your mother?"

He tugs a bit at the hair in his hands and shouts, "Maka! I wrote Maka a song and I can't play it for her, she'll hate it like everyone else!"

Maire lifts a hand as if to calm him but seems to change her mind and bring it back down to her lap. "If you wrote it for her, I'm sure she'll enjoy it. You're putting your soul into something that maybe she can understand better."

"Maka knows _shit_ about music," he tries to laugh off. "She won't understand any of it! I mean sure, I wanted to play it for her for Christmas, but -"

…

_The hallways of the music hall are quiet now that finals are nearly over. No melodies trickle from the practice rooms; no one is trying to pass him without hitting him with an instrument case. It's an almost haunting feeling to see and hear nothing in a building that is normally so full of life, or at least Soul assumes. He passes by open doorways, occasionally spotting a professor typing away at their desk, until finally he spots it. A grand piano standing alone in a small recital room._

_His fingers twitch and there is a sinking in his stomach. He hasn't touched the ivory keys in such a long time. Avoiding the instrument and the memories that come with it had seemed like the best course of action. But no more, he thinks, trying to pin down a melody._

_The bench scrapes across the floor, sending echoes across the empty room. He sits and hesitantly stretches his fingers out over keys, foot gently resting on the damper pedal. Suddenly, his fingers crash into the keys, a dissonant chord ringing out. His heart pounds as he waits for the chord to fade away, waits for the memories to wash over him again._

_And all he can think about is Maka, rising from her seat as she applauds him._

_She would ask for an encore. She would tell him that his song is beautiful. She would encourage him again and again. No, she can't fix him, but she can help him fix himself. He has to find a way to thank her. For helping him with his work, for pushing him when he wanted to give up, for helping him come out of his shell._

_For being a good friend._

_So he plinks out a few notes, memorizing them for later when he has paper. He hopes Maka will like her present._

…

Running fingers through his hair, trying to grab hold of any sense, he continues, "I have to be insane! Fucking crazy! I can't play for her, even after jumping through hoops to get her to come with!"

"She didn't want to go with you initially?"

"No, no, Maka agreed right away, but her dad, this _Spirit_ guy, is the problem!" Soul notices her wince just a smidge at this, but he continues with his story. This is the most he feels he's talked in a long time, and he is on a roll. "She said 'basically he wants to judge that you're a good person before whisking me away on a magical Christmas journey', and I was needy enough to agree to meeting him!"

"Spirit Albarn certainly is an acquired taste," Marie agrees with a nervous chuckle. "And wanting your friend with you when you go home to a difficult family environment isn't 'needy'. She must have been happy to be invited."

He shakes his head a little more than necessary. "No, I _was_ being needy, and I told the guy as much!"

…

" _Papa, this is Soul," Maka introduces hesitantly. Her eyes are glued to the boy, probably gauging his comfort level so she can swoop in and save him should he need it._

_The red-head extends a hand to him. "Spirit Albarn. Nice to meet you, Soul." No smile, which is expected, but also no jaw clench, which is unexpected for an overprotective father._

" _Likewise," he says, taking his hand. There's the firm handshake he's used to._

" _Maka, sweetie, mind leaving us alone for a moment? Maybe whip up a snack for our guest?"_

_She eyes Soul, silently asking if he'll be okay should she leave, and he nods. Humming a confirmation, she leaves the living room. And all goes silent._

_Spirit is the one to break the chilling silence. "Crazy color," he says, pointing to Soul's hair._

" _Natural." Yup, he's rocking this interview._

" _Why do you really want to take my daughter to the other side of the country?"_

_It's a bit jarring at how quickly Spirit cuts to the chase, but Soul shouldn't be surprised. This is the father of Real-Talk Maka. However, even though he knew this question was coming, he still doesn't have the right words to form an answer. Definitely not one to the old man's liking._

" _Well?" the red-head insists._

" _Um… well, see…" His gaze floats along the wall of the living room, falling on family photos through the ages. The divorce doesn't seem to have affected any of Spirit's decorating as a woman who looks an awful lot like Maka can still be seen in the photos. And then there's the girl herself, laughing in a few candid shots._

_Spirit snapping his fingers pulls him back to the present, and maybe they aren't the right words, but it's the only answer Soul has. "Look, when I invited Maka to come with me, I couldn't believe she said yes. To be honest, I was… really happy. It was really selfish of me to want her to come out. My folks aren't the easiest to get along with, and just having someone I trust with me should make my holiday a little easier."_

_The look on the man's face confirms that his answer isn't good enough._

" _But… Honestly, Maka deserves to get to see snow. And to hang out in little Ma and Pa shops outside New Haven. I mean, not too far outside New Haven of course, but there's a few that are -" Getting off track. "Anyway, what I mean is, your daughter is a really cool person who treats me better than any friend I've ever had before. And maybe she wants to go for me, but I want her to go for her too. She works really hard to make other people happy, I just… figured she deserved to feel really happy too."_

_That's it, it's all he has. Judgement is upon him as he waits for Spirit's verdict._

…

Eye wide open, Marie lets out a sigh. "I'd've been surprised if your answer hadn't worked. That was really sweet of you to say."

"But I was being so impulsive and selfish and needy!"

"Remember what we've worked on? Holding a tru-"

"That's the truth though! It's the whole reason I asked her in the first place!" His knuckles are white from hanging onto the chair for dear life.

…

_The commons are still bustling with students who have yet to finish all their finals and head home for the holidays. Somehow Soul is able to spot her pigtails in the crowd and comes over to drop his bag on the floor next to hers._

" _You, sir, are late," Maka says, playfully pouting as he takes a seat across from her. She pushes dirty dishes off to the side before digging in her backpack on the floor._

" _Sorry, Mom was talking to me about my flight home for Christmas."_

" _Ah yes, Christmas, the holiday associated with the mythical snow and ice." She giggles a bit. "I was beginning to think you were an alien, since you never talk about your family." No response is heard from Soul, and her head pops up from under the table. "Or is there a reason you don't talk about them? Are you guys on bad terms or something…?"_

_His fork swirls in his mashed potatoes. "No? I mean, maybe? It's complicated…"_

" _You still haven't told them?"_

_The swirling stops. He pushes his plate away and sighs. "It isn't a big deal, really-"_

" _It is to you, isn't it?" They lock eyes for a moment before Maka takes his hand in hers. "Do you wanna call? Skype? I can be there if you want. Whatever will make you most comfortable."_

_There's a weird feeling that crawls up his arm and into his chest. He's not sure if he should smile or cry because she is just so determined and kind, and all he can do… is laugh. It starts as a small snicker and turns into an uncontrollable laughter that has Maka staring at him like he's grown a second head. Taking back his hand and coming down from whatever weird feeling that came over him, he asks, "So you've really never seen snow before? Up close and personal?"_

" _Not that I can remember?" she replies skeptically. He knows she isn't really ready for the change in subject, but he can definitely wait to continue that conversation._

" _You know, New Haven gets a decent amount of snow around Christmas…"_

_There's a hint of mischief in her eyes as her mouth spreads into a grin. "Soul Evans, are you asking me to come home with you for the holidays?"_

_His gaze lowers to his lap. "I mean, if you want. I know you have your family here, and maybe you'd rather spend the holidays with them, but I just thought -"_

" _I'd love to," Maka interrupts. She leans back in her seat, grin becoming more of a content smile. "I'm sure your family will be better company than mine anyway."_

_That is isn't so sure of._

…

Marie moves her hand in a "slow down" kind of way. Settling back in her chair, she asks, "You seemed so sure you wanted her with you for Christmas. Why do you say you're terrified?"

Soul takes a couple of deep breaths, relaxing and stretching his hands a moment as well, before continuing. "Well… I mean, with Maka I feel confident. Like I could take on the whole world if I wanted and Maka'd have my back and kick ass with me if I asked. But my folks… I'm scared to go back."

"What are you afraid will happen once you get there?"

"That they won't like her. That they won't let her stay." _That I'll be stuck alone with people who don't know anything about me._

"There's a truth here you need to tell yourself." Marie's eye holds a cross between concern and determination. Something they've been working on. Holding a truth to the lies his brain tells him. So far it's been helpful.

"Y-yeah. There's no way they'd kick her out once she got there. Me, on the other hand…"

Marie leans in close, the most serious look in her eye he's ever seen. "You don't have to talk to them yet if you aren't ready."


	6. Nothing Functions, No One has a Clue

As Wes brings the car up to the driveway, Soul watches Maka's eyes light up. Their father had always prided himself on the impressive light displays their house boasted. Coupled with the ever-falling snow, it must look like a miracle to the blonde. He nudges Maka's shoulder with his own, causing her to look at him. He doesn't say a word, just smiles warmly at her, and she mouths a "thank you" to him before returning to gaping at the house. Out of the corner of his eye, he swears he sees Wes smirking at them, but before he can comment on it, Wes has parked and is climbing out of the car.

The other two follow suit, and Soul stops Wes before he can pop the trunk open to grab luggage. "Don't worry about that, we'll get it later. Sure everyone's too excited to see us to wait longer."

Wes eyes him suspiciously, but shrugs anyway, jamming his keys in his pocket and making his way up to the front door. Maka doesn't follow the oldest of the trio, instead hanging back by the hood of the car for Soul. Her brows are furrowed again, and he's getting tired of being the cause for that look.

"What's… going on?"

"Look just… just in case?" he mutters to her, watching Wes carefully to make sure he is out of earshot. "If things get ugly for some reason, we don't need to pack, we can just get the hell out of here." She blinks a couple of times at him before finally nodding, and the two move to catch up with Wes.

As they make their way up the sidewalk to the door, Maka loses her footing on a section of ice. Soul arm darts out to catch her at the elbow, and somehow he is able to right her again. She pouts a bit, glaring at the patch of ice. He does his best to hide his chuckle. When she starts laughing with him, his gaze comes up to look at her, but instead the silhouette just past her catches his eye.

And he freezes.

It's only been a few months, and sure, they've had their differences, and their chat on the phone wasn't exactly his idea of fun, but when he sees his mother standing in the doorway, there's an ache in his stomach. Like a home sickness. Her arms reach out to him, and despite all the anxiety leading up to this moment, he still feels like he's floating towards her, Maka's arm slowly slipping from his grasp. His mother holds him tight, Wes sighing contently beside them.

"You cut your hair?" she murmurs.

"Th-thought it was… time for a change."

There's a sudden change in his mother as she pulls back from him. He follows her gaze back to Maka, still standing near the patch of ice. "Who's this, dear?"

It dawns on him suddenly that most people don't bring friends for the holidays. Usually that is reserved for significant others. The thought leaves him floundering for an answer. Eventually he waves Maka over to them, giving her a look that screams "save me".

She offers a hand to his mother. "I'm Maka, Soul's friend from college. She was nice enough to invite me along. I've always wanted to see what it's like on the coast." Her eyes flash over to him, a silent apology.

His mother's face softens as she takes the girl's hand. "Alecia, Soul's mother. It's nice to have you, I just wish we'd known you'd be coming." He flinches next to her, knowing the comment is meant for him. "Let's all get inside, it's getting really cold out. Soul, your father is in the kitchen getting dinner ready, why don't you go see him?"

Soul takes Maka's hand and shows her into the house, overhearing his mother question Wes about their luggage. "Probably have dinner first, then church," Soul tells his companion. "Usually how Christmas goes for us."

She nods. "Your mom seems nice."

"Just… don't get on her bad side, kay? Trust me, it isn't fun."

The house looks even bigger on the inside with it's open floorplan. To the right of the foyer, a beautiful staircase swirls up to the second floor, the family Christmas tree resting in the curved wall it creates. On the left is a dining room, the "good" dining room with easy access to the fine china in an elaborate cabinet. The living room and kitchen are up ahead, and Soul doesn't know if it's strange or comforting that everything feels sterile, like they are in a showroom and not someone's actual house. It's always been this way, but he feels like he's seeing his childhood home in a different light.

As they enter the kitchen, his father is in the process of pulling the turkey out of the oven. The man catches a glimpse of Soul and nearly drops the pan, Soul and Maka moving as if to help catch it (the former realizing that trying to catch it without oven mitts would probably end badly). He gently places the pan on the stove top and wraps Soul in a hug, placing a kiss on the top of his head. "Been too long, kiddo," he says. "Classes going well?" As he pulls back, he eyes Maka suspiciously, just like Alecia.

"Maka, friend here, she's been helping me out with classes. Real wiz kid." Soul guides her gently by the elbow a little closer to his father. "She's never seen snow before, so I thought we should fix that."

"Glad to have you with us, Maka," the man says, grabbing her hand for a handshake. "My name's Garrett. You need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask. You picked the right day to be here, we're supposed to get quite a bit tonight." He moves back to the turkey and, seeing Wes walk by into the adjacent living room, waves him into the room. "Wes, why don't you give Maka a tour and help everyone settle in? I've got a bird to work on yet." The young man shrugs and motions for the two to follow him.

"Thanks again for picking us up," Maka says to Wes as they head into the living room. "Although we really didn't get the chance to properly introduce ourselves…"

"No need," Wes replies. "You're Maka Albarn, best friend to my dear Soul and vanquisher of bad grades and empty paper trays." He winks at Soul. "We've had plenty of conversations about you."

She giggles. "Is that so?"

Just bury him. Throw him out in the snow to freeze. Soul does his best to maintain his composure while Wes is clearly beside himself at the younger's reaction. They continue the tour of the large house, eventually making their way upstairs. The atmosphere is much warmer on the second floor, every room actually feeling like someone lives there. Soul pauses a moment and tugs on Wes's sleeve gently. "Hey, you guys go on ahead. I, uh, kinda need a sec." The older nods and leads Maka further down the hall.

Again, it hasn't really been that long, but walking into his bedroom makes him feel like he's been away for ages. Everything looks and smells the same as the day he left, minus hair on the ground. He pads over to the vanity in the corner, taking a seat in front of the mirror. His reflection stares back at him, and all he can think is he really has changed. Maybe not so much in looks, but there's an aire of confidence about him now that he doesn't remember ever seeing in this mirror.

A soft knock at the door behind him pulls him from the mirror, and there stands Maka with no Wes in sight. "Mind if I come in?" He shakes his head, and she begins to wander around the room. "Wes went to help your dad with dinner. Sounds like it will be ready soon." She stops at a tall jewelry box on his dresser, gazing at the trinkets through the glass. "Pretty."

"Grab one if you like," he says, waving nonchalantly at her. "S'not like I wear them."

She exhales through her nose with a sad smile. "I really don't think they suit me."

"Whatever," he replies with a chuckle, crossing the room towards her. Grabbing a random necklace from the box, he lays it around her neck and asks her to move her hair out of the way so he can clasp it. With it secured around her neck, Soul motions for her to move to the vanity. "Go on, take a look."

Maka does as she's told, mouth slightly agape once she catches her reflection in the mirror. She brushes her hair behind her ear. "I don't know if I'm cut out for this lifestyle of the rich and famous," she admits. "With pretty necklaces and everyone knowing your name. I've just always been… nobody."

"You're somebody to me."

She blushes faintly and brings her hands up to unclasp the necklace.

"You should really keep it on," Wes calls from the doorway. "It does suit you, really. Plus we'd better hurry downstairs now or Dad will dig in without us."

"Yessir!" Maka giggles, racing out the door and down the stairs without the other two.

Wes waggles his brows at Soul who simply punches him in the shoulder and follows the girl's lead.

…

The clock on the wall ticks far too loudly as he sits at the piano waiting for her. His song plays over and over again in his mind so hopefully he can keep it all together long enough for her to hear it. Why hadn't he taken time to change out of at least his sweater once they'd gotten back? Roasting nervously at the piano is not how Soul wants her to see him.

There is a soft knock at the door as Maka sneaks in. She's changed out of her church attire and into a striped shirt and pajama bottoms with little scarf-clad penguins on them. Cute. "It's a good thing your brother gave me the tour when we got here. 'Meet me in the piano room after church' wasn't exactly as helpful as you may have thought. Not as difficult to find as Wes's room, but still." Soul cocks an eyebrow at her. "Had to get the keys to the car so I could change to something more comfy?" she replies, gesturing to her ensemble.

He offers an apology and waves her over to him. As she clasps her hands behind her and stands just enough away from him and the bench to not crowd him, he explains, "I just… I have something for you. I know it's not something you can really take home with you, but…"

"If you're going to play for me, then play."

He looks to her, big eyes glued to him and lower lip sucked in as she anxiously awaits her present. He's played this moment in his head, over and over again. Despite his brain insisting that she'd never really be there, or that she would never want to hear what he had to say or play, she's here. Exactly as he always knew, deep down, she would be. He has so much to say, but Soul hopes she can hear it, can _feel_ it. Maybe his interpretation is garbage, but he knows her, and this? This piece he just can't get wrong.

Taking a deep breath, he gently places his fingers on B major. It starts out slow, just a few chords echoing off the walls until he adds in the melody in a higher register. It's soft, like chimes, like Maka bounding up the stairs of the library with a smile like sunshine. Soul picks up the tempo, fingers flitting over the keys with the same sort of carefree inevitability that characterized their early friendship. His eyes close and fingers move from memory. All the laughs, the tears, the late nights talking about absolutely nothing, it all rings out from under his fingertips and envelops him in warmth.

Maka startles him when she joins him at the bench, causing him to hit a wrong note. His eyes fly open as he leans into the instrument, trying to reclaim his hold on the piece. She shifts a bit, staying as close to the edge as possible to give him plenty of room. He's grateful for it as he eases slowly into the last part of the song. The sound paints the room in the purples of a sunset, leaving him feeling hopeful for the dawn. One last chord hums from the piano, only to fade and leave behind Soul's heavy breathing. His fingers slip down to his lap, and his eyes close once more.

Maka leans her head against him and sighs contently. "That was beautiful," she whispers. "Thank you for sharing that with me." She hums a bit of what she can remember, quietly and a bit off key if he's being honest. Confirmation that she truly did enjoy his piece. Their peaceful moment is disturbed when she picks her head up off his shoulder suddenly. "You still want to talk to them?"

He swallows hard. Whatever happens, he isn't alone. The bench scrapes uncomfortably as Soul pushes away from the piano, causing Maka to flinch before following his movement with her gaze. He feels sluggish, weighed down, but regardless he squares his shoulders and replies, "Now or never, I guess."

Concern written all over her face, she joins him at his side and laces her fingers in his. "I'm here." There they stand, a knight without his armor and a pig-tailed, penguin pyjama-ed pillar, ready to take on the world together. Hand in hand, they make their way down the stairs, both trembling a bit.

Alecia catches a glimpse of them on her way to the kitchen just before they reach the foyer. "It's so nice to hear you play again, Soul. A little out of practice, but still lovely." She opens the refrigerator to look for a snack.

Maka squeezes his hand and glances up at him. He puts on his best smile for his mother and lets go of the girl's hand. "Can I, erm, talk to you, Mom?" he stutters. "You, Dad, and Wes?"

The foraging stops a moment before Alecia closes the door and squints suspiciously at him. "I suppose? What's this all about?"

"Just… wait till everyone's here, kay?"

Her gaze shifts between the two, but curiosity gets the better of her, so she doesn't press further and instead runs off to the basement to find the men. Meanwhile Maka finds a seat in an armchair in the living room, Soul pacing until there are footsteps coming up the stairs.

One by one, the Evans family files in, taking their seats on the couch and exchanging confused and concerned looks. "Everything alright, sweetie? Family meetings have never really been your style," Garrett speaks up.

"Yeah, yeah, I just- Well you see, I wanna say…" His heart is pounding in his chest, fingers wringing. Now or never, right? That's what he'd said. "Don't… call me 'sweetie' anymore. Or 'dear' or-"

"Pet names? I hardly think pet names are a reason to call a family meeting, you had your mother and I worried, young lady," his father interrupts.

"... Or that either. Or just… 'she' in general." Soul chances a glance up from the floor to gauge everyone's silent reaction. Maka's eyes flit between each member of the family, probably trying to figure out what they're thinking as well. Wes touches knuckles to his lips, eyes closed and head almost nodding? Their parents both share the same stunned look as they process his words, Garrett's directed at the floor and Alecia's at him. Does he need to elaborate? Do they understand what's he's saying at least? It's far quieter than he had ever imagined the scenario to go.

His mother's laughter kills the silence. "But, _sweetie_ , what else are we supposed to call you if not 'she'?" She continues to giggle as if they are in on some inside joke.

He swallows hard. "'He' works just fine, thanks."

The giggling stops.

Soul's breath hitches and he turns to Maka for encouragement. She gives a small "go on" gesture with her hand, and he lets go of the breath. "It's been a few years, trying to figure it all out, but I know who I am now. And I just want… _need_ you guys to see me the way I do."

Alecia's eyes narrow as her hands form fists. "I knew that school was a bad idea. You should have stayed here, gone to study music like your brother. No galavant across the country to some school where they fill your head with nonsense!"

Wes tenses between her and his father, eyes wide and on alert.

Soul's hand come up in a defensive gesture. "It's been like this since before college, I just didn't know how to -"

"It's probably your doing as well," Alecia spits, pointing directly at Maka. She's halfway out of her seat now, and it causes Garrett to become on edge like his eldest. "Corrupting my daughter, letting her believe these delusions! Why did you even come here?!"

"I came for this right here!" Maka retorts, jumping to her feet. "What kind of mother are you, screaming at your son like this?! For just being him!"

"Quit calling her that, you filthy whore," she hisses. A shaky hand points to herself as she continues, "I brought her into this world, fed her, clothed her. I know her better than anyone, and she is not some tranny! Now you get the hell out of my house and away from my daughter!"

She jabs a boney finger into Maka's chest, prompting Soul to step in and shove his mother away with a "Leave her alone!" Shock flickers in her eyes for a split second before she slaps him across the face. Garrett leaps from his seat and wrestles his wife back into her seat, the two flailing on the couch.

"Get off me! Get those two the fuck out of my house!" she shrieks, struggling against his grip.

"Wes, get them them out before your mother hurts someone!" Garrett wheezes.

He nods to his father and pushes Soul and Maka towards the front door. Flinging his coat off the rack and around himself, he urges the two to hurry to the car. They don't argue. Each of them barely has an arm in their sleeve by the time they pile into the vehicle. Wes turns over the engine just as Alecia appears in the doorway, her profanities echoing off the newly fallen snow. As they pull out of the driveway, Soul chances one last look back.

He decides it will probably be his last.

…

The car pulls into a dark apartment complex parking lot, its passengers still deadly silent. Wes shifts into park, sighs, and watches Soul through the rearview mirror. The younger brother is shaken. This outcome has always been a very real probability, but he'd never really prepared for it. The scene plays back, over and over, and he wonders if there was anything, anything at all, he could have done to make things end up differently. Probably not. He should feel worse about the whole situation. Shaking, like Maka next to him, or something. But instead he just passively watches the playback, staring into space.

"Let's get you guys settled down for the night," Wes' voice startles the younger two. "We can see about flights out west tomorrow, but you might want to be prepared to stay here a couple days." Maka moves to protest, but he brings a hand up to silence her. "Don't worry about it, I don't mind you bunking with me, really. Just wanna get you guys away from the Wicked Witch of the East."

Soul doesn't utter a word and obediently follows the other two up the stairs to his brother's apartment. Two bedroom, decent size for a bachelor, and a little messier than anyone who didn't truly know his brother would think. He doesn't need guiding or prompting to head towards the guest bedroom. The double bed had been his refuge on particular difficult nights in high school. While it would have been nice to grow up with a sibling closer in age to him, sometimes having a brother seven years older than you can be a blessing.

"I'll talk to them in the morning," he can barely hear Wes assure Maka in the hallway. "We'll give everyone some time to cool down, let Mom come to her senses."

"And if she doesn't?" There's a bit of venom in her voice, he can tell.

His brother sighs. "Then maybe it's for the best. If this is how it will always be, then maybe she doesn't deserve a loving son like Soul."

There's a break somewhere inside him. A weird mixture of being grateful for the wonderful brother he has and the fear and anger from their mother's outburst. It crashes down on him in waves, drowning out the sound of Wes wishing them both goodnight. He can't keep his head above water, but Maka walks past him as if everything is fine.

She leans her suitcase up against the wall next to the window. The city below glows with the festive lights reflecting off the snow. It really is a beautiful night. Such a shame. "Um… good thinking, about the luggage," she tries. "Sorry you were right though."

Soul's suitcase thunks to the floor as he throws back the covers on the bed and crawls in without a word. He disappears under the stark white blankets, tufts of hair just barely visible if she looks hard enough. Sighing, she takes a seat on her side, eyes trained to the few headlights traveling on the interstate in the distance. The first sniffle almost goes unnoticed, but second accompanied by a tiny cry shifts her attention from the window back to him. His shoulders visibly shake beneath the blankets, and she brings her feet up onto the bed to cross her legs.

"It's okay," she comforts, placing a hand on his back. "Everything's okay."

"It's not!" comes his muffled cry. The covers wrap tighter around him. "It's all shit, all of it!"

She squeezes her eyes shut a moment before tugging her side of the blankets from his grasp and crawling under with him. Her arm wraps around him as he sobs harder. "I'm so sorry…" she whispers into his back. She hums the song he played for her again, this time a bit closer to the right key. With her face pressed up against his back, he can feel the song vibrating against him.

Misery loves company, and he's grateful for the company he keeps.


	7. Expansive Dose of Words

At one point during his first semester, he had been a bit embarrassed to be receiving a sort of allowance from his family as an adult out on his own. Definitely lucky, but a little embarrassed. Now, staring at the meager number in his bank account on his computer screen days after he normally would have gotten his allowance, Soul realizes exactly how lucky he was. And how easily numbers can make him want to vomit.

Maka leans over his shoulder, hand supporting her on the back of his chair, to see the damage for herself. "I really shouldn't have let you spend so much on me over vacation. If I'd have known your mother was going to do this, I never would ha-"

"Not like you could have predicted this. Besides, who's to say she's not just a little late?" He knows that isn't the case. This is clearly retaliation. Pretending like it isn't doesn't make the nausea go away, so why try to defend her?

Maka cocks an eyebrow at him, probably asking him the same question in her mind. "Are you going to be okay? I know you have your meal plan, so you won't starve, but you still have stuff you have to buy for yourself."

"I mean, I could get one of those fancy things people call a job." No laughter from her. He isn't a master of comedy. "But seriously, I'll be fine. Plenty of other people here work along with going to school. Shouldn't be that hard." He glances up at her, realizing she is still very close to him. There's another churn in his stomach, and he tries to attribute it to his financial situation and not her proximity.

"This isn't right," she says, jaw clenching now. "I don't understand how she could be like this. What does this mean for your tuition next year? Is she just going to cut any funding to you from now on?" Her hand clenches tighter on the back of his chair. "What will you do once this semester's over? Will she let you come home? I don't understand how some parents can be like this! They'd rather just lose their child than let them live outside their definition of 'normal'!"

Soul grabs her shoulder gently, tugging her back to the present instead of flying through future what-ifs. "Hey, things will be okay. I'll talk to Wes, he still seems to have my back." He doesn't quite believe himself when he says "things will be okay". But he's convinced if you tell the lie long enough, it might very well become the truth.

"There's only so much Wes can do though! Do you think he can talk sense into your mother?"

He shrugs. "Old lady's always been set in her ways. I doubt anything could change her mind if she's made it up." She looks like she's going to cry, and him trying to be nonchalant about it is probably only making it worse. He squeezes her arm reassuringly. "Look, I will be fine. Just gotta put in some hours at a job to keep me on my feet."

Maka straightens up, arms crossed over her chest in that stubborn thinking pose she has. A hand comes up to rub away what little tears still angrily threaten to fall. "Well one way or another, you're coming back this fall. Have you looked at scholarships at all?"

He shakes his head, prompting her to rub her forehead. "To be honest, my grades were less than stellar last semester. Might do better this time around since I know what I'm doing, but…"

"Okay, that's fine, I have a friend who works in the financial aid office. She's probably got details on pretty much every scholarship you can get your hands on. We'll see what you can qualify for. I'll help you job hunt, there's probably some openings around campus since people tend to drop at semester. That just leaves the summer…"

"I mean, I could possibly stay with Wes?" he suggests. "Although that might be too close to home. Wes has high hopes that Dad will come around, but I'm not sure about being that close to Mom..."

"What if I talk to Papa? Have you stay with us?"

Sure, have them be roomies. Watching TV together, eating meals together, sleeping with just a thin wall between them. In all seriousness, it sounds heavenly. Now if only he could get the old man on board, then it would be perfect. But despite Christmas going relatively well, after getting settled back in Nevada that is, Spirit still watched him carefully with pursed lips on the all of two occasions they decided to hang out at her place.

"Thanks, but I think I'd better look at some… more likely options."

She pouts but nods. Taking a seat over on the bed, she kicks her legs childishly while still contemplating Soul's predicament. "You still have the rest of the semester to figure out where you'll go for the summer, I guess," she sighs, defeated. "Looks like the job hunt begins now though, huh? I can certainly talk to Blake and see if there's any openings at Cloud Nine, but you might want to check out some other options in the meantime. Pretty sure I saw Subway had a sign saying they're hiring."

Soul grimaces, and she laughs. Introverts and fast food establishments just don't mix.

...

Soul begins to notice a strange quietness around the bathroom. It takes a few days for him to really become aware of it, but once he realizes it, the thought nags at the back of his mind. Could Kim have moved out? No, her laundry basket still sits next to the shower. It's entirely possible that the two lovebirds have moved their loud sex-capades elsewhere, like Jackie's place.

But Soul finally hears sniffles from the bathroom one day. Knocking softly on the door, he asks, "You okay?"

"Go away!" Hiccups echo off the walls.

His hand falls from the door, and he turns to lean against it. "I know you said the less we see of each other, the better, but… maybe you wanna talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about!" Something thuds against the door. Probably a bottle of shampoo.

"I just know no one gets emotional over a purely physical relationship."

The door opens behind him, and he stumbles backwards, falling to the floor. Kim stands above him, make-up running and nostrils flared. "Did she tell you? She did, didn't she? That she was going to break up with me?!"

Soul clambers away from her to stand against the opposite wall. "Who, Jackie? No, she never even really told me you two were dating!"

The two stand in silence for a while, just staring at each other while Kim's fists clench and unclench at her sides. He can see the gears turning in her head as she tries to calm herself down, or at least try to make sense of this weird situation. Neighbors finally, truly conversing for the first time. Over a breakup.

She sniffs and violently wipes tears from her right eye with the butt of her palm. "I mean… I guess we never really were. Which I was alright with. Or at least I thought I was."

Eyes still lingering on the girl, Soul moves to sit at his desk, patting the bed for her to sit on as he passes it. "She alright with that? The whole 'never really dating' thing?" He can't help but feel like he sounds like Marie.

"No," she says, gaze shifting between him and the bed hesitantly before she gives in and sits down. "She wanted us to be something more." She fiddles with her fingers and concentrates on her breathing. "You ever been in love?"

He remembers how nice it was to have Maka sit so close while he poured out his heart to her via song. How right it felt to lace his fingers in hers. And the pang in his chest when she shuts down anyone who jokes about their relationship being anything more than platonic. "Maybe."

"It sucks. It's all you ever think about. You plan your days around the times you can see them the most, no one can make you laugh like they do, the sky is fucking bluer than you remember it being, and you know it's all her fault. It's like being high and getting punched in the gut at the same time, and I never wanted to feel so out of control. Never wanted to be a slave to the way I feel about people. And then she showed up and asked me to be vulnerable, and I…" Kim is crying again, the palm of her hand vigorously rubbing tears from her eye. "I really fucking love her, and she won't hear me out! Jackie won't answer her damn phone, and I know if I go see her, she'll go hide in the back room or something!"

"Back room?"

"She's at work right now. Her coworkers would probably lie and say she went home sick or something, I dunno, but they won't let me see her either, I know they won't." Her arm moves to wipe the snot from her nose, but she pauses. Realization flickers in her eyes, and she leaps up and over to the desk. "You got paper and something to write on here?" she asks, foraging through the drawers while Soul squawks next to her about "personal space". She finds a loose sheet of paper and pen and scrawls out some sort of letter he thinks. Finished, she folds it up and shoves it in his chest. "You can take it to her, can't you? She won't know you, it'll be perfect! You can just casually hand it to her, and then she'll have to read it!"

"Woah, I never agreed to be someone's messenger!"

"I'll owe you one, whatever you want. I just really need this, okay?"

He sighs. "Where does she work?"

"Subway." Unbelievable.

…

Soul pats his pocket once more, confirming that Kim's note is still safe. The Student Union is packed, not surprising at about dinnertime, although he's lucky enough that the line to Subway is fairly short in comparison to the other dining options. He recognizes Jackie from his math class last semester right away, her hair tied back in two low pigtails. Taking a deep breath, he takes his place in line and patiently waits for the girl to wait on him.

"Hello, what kind of bread would you like today?" she asks in an almost bored tone.

He stumbles to find some sort of answer. Hadn't been prepared for the trick questions. "I'm, uh, here for an application actually?" Two birds, one stone, he supposes.

Jackie cocks an eyebrow at him. "You realize we're still in the dinner rush, right?" He nods sheepishly. Sighing, she points to a group of booths across from the food stand. "Wait there, I'll bring you an app and a pen when I get the chance. You can just leave it here once you're done."

"Thanks a lot," he says, sliding Kim's note across the counter to her with a shaky hand. Before she can say anything, he escapes to the booths, finding a seat and burying his face in crossed arms on the table. Why him? Why hadn't Kim helped him figure out an attack plan beforehand?

He sits there for a while, consumed with thoughts on how stupid he must have looked, when someone taps him on the shoulder. Jackie, armed with the application and pen she'd promised. Setting the items down in front of him, she asks, "Mind if I take a seat? I'm on break now."

Soul shakes his head and motions to the bench opposite him. As she sits down, he waits and watches for a sign she wants to engage him in conversation. Instead, she flips through her phone, and he's pretty relieved. Now on to a more daunting task than conversation: job applications.

"You're the one next door, aren't you?" She startles him.

"Yeah, uh, remember me, huh?"

"And from math last semester. I only remember a little, but yes, I remember." Her eyes are still glued to her phone screen, avoiding his gaze. "Then you know Kim."

He nods. "Sorry. She said you wouldn't answer her calls or see her in person, so…"

"Not much to talk about, so why bother?"

Humming, Soul returns to his application. The first section is pretty easy. Job hunting isn't so bad, he could do this in his sleep. "You read it then?" he presses, filling in the information.

"I don't know that I'd be sitting here if I hadn't. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say. I tried talking to her about this before, and she just found ways to avoid it. And now I'm supposed to assume she really means it when she says she can commit? How do I know it's not just pretty words and begging just because I'm taking things seriously?"

"I mean, she was sobbing, saying that she really loves you. She seems pretty heartbroken over it, I'd say she's taking it pretty seriously now, but you can do with that what you will." He sounds like an ass, and he knows it. But he's just the messenger who wasn't given any time to prepare, just supposed to leave a note, fill out an application, and figure out his own feelings while trying to sleep before the bad feeling surrounding Christmas return.

Jackie's eyes flit between him and her phone, words forming on her lips but never really leaving them. An alarm on the phone chimes, signifying the end of her break, and the girl scoots out of the booth without another word about the subject. "You can hand your application to anyone once you're done. Thank you for your interest in joining the Subway team." With that, she's back to the stand, disappearing behind the counter.

His gaze lingers on her a moment longer, sad eyes watching her hand brush away what he assumes is tears. It's supposed to be easy, right? Love? Especially when you and someone else feel it together. But maybe it's just the falling part that's easy.

Shaking his head, he refocuses on the application. Job history and references, no friends. Ah, there's the anxiety Soul had assumed would come with filling out job applications. Living the rich life meant never having to worry about work until he was an adult. Or more of an adult than he is now, technically. Now what if that prevents him from getting a job? Sure, Wes has his back, and maybe some money to spare, but he doesn't want to rely on him, doesn't want to be more of a burden on his family than he clearly already is. He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his thoughts. Maybe he'd be better off taking a break and bringing his app back later, what with the day he's had. So he folds up the sheet neatly and heads for home.

….

"Honestly, I'm not surprised she cut you off," Wes says over the phone with a frustrated sigh. "I had a feeling something was up. Dad's been stopping by my place a lot. He's seems really hesitant to go back home when he leaves."

Soul flops back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. "What's… he got to say about all of it?"

"You're his kid, boy or girl. He doesn't quite get it, but he talks about you a lot. Like I thought, he's coming around. Feels like he didn't take the time to know who you were really becoming in high school, you know?" It feels like the understatement of the year, but Soul doesn't comment on it. "Don't worry about him. Mom's a handful, but Dad can tough it out or do something about it."

"Didn't mean to wreck everything…"

It's quiet on Wes's end a moment as he mulls over the situation. "If it's honesty hour, I think everyone's relationship with Mom has been strained for a while. Both of them always pushed us as kids, but I remember always being terrified of letting her down. It usually didn't end well if I did. You haven't wrecked things. Maybe this is actually all for the best, make us all reevaluate things, and we just gotta wade through the shit for a bit until it all clears."

"Maybe." He wonders how long the wading has to last. With a sigh and an arm flung over his eyes, Soul continues, "It's been a long day, I think I'm gonna call it a night. Um… thanks, Wes. For everything."

"Brothers gotta look out for each other. Sleep well."

"Thanks, I'll try."

The moment he hangs up his phone, there's a banging on his door. Hesitant to get out of bed but crossing the room anyway, he doesn't recall expecting any guests or being loud enough for confrontational neighbors. Maybe Kim had returned to her room and wants to talk? He opens the door to find Maka in the doorway instead, backpack slung over one shoulder and sleeping bag tucked under her other arm. "Surprise!" she exclaims. "You said we should have another sleepover sometime, and tonight was the perfect opportunity to get away!"

Soul can't get a word in before she makes herself at home, dropping the sleeping bag in the middle of his floor. "Thought your mom was in town?" he finally speaks up.

"Just left actually. Without her there, I didn't wanna be around, so… here I am! I mean, it's not like we haven't had impromptu sleepovers before?"

His thoughts drift to Kim and Jackie. This must be how Jackie felt, at least to some extent. Being alone with someone all the time, having feelings for them but never having them returned, spending night after night together, even if it is in very different ways. It's all too much. He can't bear to keep it all inside anymore.

"Papa's always a wreck after Mom comes to visit," Maka says, stretching her arms up and over her head. "I can't stand seeing him mope like that, like he's forgotten that it's all his fault to begin with. Anyway, I brought my sleeping bag this time, so you can sleep in your-"

"You can't stay here anymore!"

She turns toward him, mouth slightly open, to find him standing with his head down and fists balled at his sides. His whole body is tense, shaking slightly, but not in a threatening way.

His voice cracks when he says once more, "You can't stay here…"

Her hands wrap tightly around her bag's strap. "Why not? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, it's not that!" he replies, shaking his head violently. "I just… I can't…"

"Soul?" Her hand reaches out for him, but he backs away instantly, refusing to look at her. "Soul… Whatever it is, I'm really sorry. Just tell me what you want, okay? Whatever you say, I'll do it."

"You don't get it! What I want doesn't matter!" He can feel tears forming in the corner of his eyes as he finally looks at her. Her brows are furrowed in worry, and all it does is frustrate him more. "You know what I want? I wanna hold your hand and never let go. I wanna listen to you complain about your day while I play with your hair. I wanna sleep next to you at night, and I wanna love you the way you deserve to be loved, but I can't because-" His face is hot and wet with tears, and all he wants to do is run and hide. This wasn't supposed to happen this way. Maka was never supposed to know. "So you… you can't stay here."

A pin could drop and they both would hear it. He wants to look away, shut his eyes tight and wish her as far away from him as possible. Or scream at her to stop looking at the floorboards and jump head-first into the unknown with him. But all he can do is stare at her and wait patiently for her to respond as she fidgets with her shoulder strap. His chest feels so tight. He'd be willing to accept rejection right now if it meant the tightness would go away.

"I… I see. I'll... just be on my way then." Maka grabs her sleeping bag from the floor and whirls towards the door, hand lingering on the handle for just a moment before leaving. The door doesn't close all the way behind her, and he can hear her footsteps running down the hall.

He's a bad liar. Her rejection is not accepted, and the tightness in his chest doesn't go away. Locking the door, he slides down against it to the floor and grabs fistfulls of his hair. It's all ruined. All of it. His grades, his family, his closest friend. Everything. The idea that people can change almost makes him want to laugh. He will always find a way to ruin everything that is dear to him. Once a screw up, always a screw up.

He leans forward, slamming his fists on the ground.

_Why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut?_

His pencil bag hangs out of his nearby backpack, and he flings it across the room. It isn't closed all the way. Writing utensils fly everywhere.

_You really thought she'd like you back?_

A book thuds against the bathroom door. The CD holding Maka's song hits the wall, cracking the case. He lets out a howl of anger. Someone is banging on his door again. Kim's voice calls out his name from the other side.

_You're disgusting, and no one will ever love you._

He slams one fist on the floor again, the other he bites down on. The bathroom door flies open, and suddenly Kim is kneeling on the floor next to him. Whatever questions she's asking him, Soul doesn't seem to hear.

_It's all over._


	8. Out with the Bad, In with the Clean

The sun fingerpaints the room as it slowly makes its way into the sky. Tired eyes try to make out shapes in the textured ceiling to distract him from his thoughts. He hasn't slept in days, not well if at all. His phone beeps angrily at him, telling him to get up and get ready for class, but wallowing in bed feels so right. Besides, Soul doesn't want to have another chance encounter with Maka result in her running away from him. Campus may be big, but they always had a knack for finding each other. Definitely a disadvantage now.

The beeping eventually dies away, and fingerpainting turns to flood lights in his room. Accepting defeat from the morning, he slips out of bed and fumbles through a stack of dirty laundry for his binder before heading to the sink. His reflection is worse today than usual. Most days, he's fine, but it's been harder since his last chat with Maka. Everything would be different if he didn't have damn fat bags on his chest or angry lower lady bits. They'd be a normal boy and girl, living normal lives, and falling in love like normal people do.

He pinches the underside of a breast, scowling at his reflection, before switching out his night shirt for the binder. They've got to go. It's been a long time coming. It may mean making an appointment by himself and not having Maka by his side, but it's something he just has to do. He changes the remainder of his ensemble and thinks briefly to Marie. She'd know what the next step is. He'll have to call an make an appointment with her sometime today.

Soul checks his stash of food under his bed to discover it mostly depleted. Just the butt ends of a loaf of bread and the remains of a box of crackers really. He can just go back to bed, right? Pretend that he never got up? Leaving his room is the last thing he wants to do, but his stomach loudly opposes his idea to stay in bed all day. Reluctantly, he grabs his keys and wallet from his nightstand and heads for the door.

Just as he opens it, there's a hushed conversation coming from down the hall, and Soul, insanely curious, keeps his door propped open just enough to eavesdrop. He thinks he heard Tsubaki's voice.

"You need to go now," she insists. "I don't want my girls to see you here!"

"What, are you embarrassed? Tsu likes to get down and dirty every so often, so what?" It's Blake.

She shushes him. "I really don't need anyone making outrageous assumptions about us, okay? Please, just… don't you have work today?"

"C'mon, just one goodbye kiss won't hurt anyone!" Blake pleads. There's a long pause before he continues, "See, was that so hard? You really shouldn't care what other people think, cuz you're in love, right? Fuck what anyone else says."

Tsubaki gives him a quick goodbye, and her door closes. Soul hears Blake's grumbling coming towards him, and he swiftly shuts and locks his own door. When he hears him stop in front of the door, he realizes that Soul is not a common name, but it is one that currently hangs on the other side of the wood. Damn Tsubaki and her adorable Harry Potter themed door decors she'd made everyone.

"Bro, that you?" Blake's voice calls out as he knocks.

He can't just lie, clearly he's there, hiding out. One more rap at the door finally convinces him to unlock and open it. Blake's hand is still poised to knock again, but he adjusts to set both hands on his hips.

"Thought it had to be you. Still forget you live here." He isn't sure if Blake means the building, the floor, or the side of the floor. "You know, I was gonna call you today, but this works out better. Cool if I come in?" He doesn't wait for the invitation before entering, and Soul closes the door behind him. Blake wanders around the room for a bit, checking out almost every corner before announcing, "Yeah, just like Tsu's room. I mean, no posters like yours, but decently decorated. Anyway, not here to inspect your decorating, we're here for business. So, if you'd step into my office, I have some great news for you." He sits backwards in the desk chair and folds his arms over the back.

"Business?" Soul asks, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah? Maka texted me you needed a job a while back, and I'm here to deliver!" Soul flinches at her name, but Blake doesn't seem to notice. He itches the inside of his ear as he continues, "Took a while to get this asshole to finally quit, but the boss-man is looking for a new waiter if you want in. I mean, it's food service, which always sucks, but tips are pretty great 'cause we tend to get the ritzier folks in. And it's a job, so can't argue with that."

Soul gnaws at the inside of his mouth. "What if I don't interview well?"

Blake shrugs. "Boss is looking for anyone trustworthy. As long as you ain't stealing tips from the other servers, I think you're fine. Plus, you've got the best reference ever right here!" he jabs a thumb into his own chest. "Trust me, you've got this job in the bag. Just swing by later and grab a form, I can only do and say so much without you filing paperwork. It's policy."

"Thanks," Soul says quietly. It's the first good thing to really happen since Maka ran out on him. Blake brings a fist up for him to bump, and Soul does so with enough enthusiasm to crack his knuckle. He shakes out the pain, and Blake bursts out laughing.

A smile tugs at Soul's lips. Maybe not everything is ruined after all.

…

Marie closes her eye, pen tapping gently along the arm of her chair. They've been sitting in silence for what feels like eternity. Spilling out his conversation with Maka and his decision to get started on T doesn't feel so good followed by such an uncomfortable silence. But Soul sits back in his seat, trying to appear confident in his decision. Marie's there to help him, but she won't talk him down.

She takes a deep breath and looks at him again, ernest. "Is this what you really want?" The question hangs in the air a moment before she continues. "This isn't me trying to deter you in any way. I just need you to understand that this process is not easy. It isn't something that you can easily change should you not feel this strongly a few years down the road. And it isn't something that you just take a couple steps and suddenly you're all finished. Transitioning is a commitment, for life, and I need to know that you are ready to make that commitment. That you are making it for you and you alone."

Soul opens his mouth to reply, but his words fall short. Closed. Open again. Closed to gnaw at his lip. His hands move to grip the arms of his chair. So much for his air of confidence.

She shifts in her chair to lean closer to him, the sound pulling his gaze up to her. "You came here, told me about what happened with Maka, and told me you are suddenly ready to begin transitioning. I want you to do this for you, not for her. Not to make her reciprocate your feelings."

"Things would be way different if I'd looked into this sooner!" His knuckles turn white with how hard he's gripping the arms of the chair now. "There'd be none of this stupid awkwardness, we'd just be regular people falling in love!"

"Do you know that she loves you?"

His mouth hangs open as he loosens his grip just a little. A lump forms in the back of his throat. She has to, right? After everything?

"Sorry…" Marie offers, shifting once again. "I just… want you to think rationally about this. Of course you're close, but Maka isn't required to have the same feelings towards you as you do to her. Even if you got started on hormone treatment today, maybe it wouldn't change anything as far as your relationship is concerned. That's just… a lot of change for the sake of one girl."

Soul brings a hand up to his neck, rubbing the back of it as he mulls over his next sentence. "I just… really have to do this. And I need your help to do it."

Marie sighs, but nods. "Just give it one week, okay? We'll meet next week and I'll give you any information you need. When bad things happen to us, we like to jump to conclusions, try to make really important decisions, especially ones we aren't really ready for. So take a week to really think it over. If you are still determined by then, we can seriously talk about this."

He doesn't want to wait, his mind is made up. But so is Marie's, and as kind as she is, she's also as stubborn. Dropping his hand back down to his lap, he nods. It's going to be a long week, but he can wait. He has to.

…

Soul flings his backpack to the side, kicks off his shoes, and lands face-first into his bed to groan. His first night as a waiter gives him a new appreciation for food service. As a newbie, his only job was to tail one of the waitresses, help collect drink orders, and bus tables. Keeping tabs on the drinks at every table in their section had seemed like an easy task, but even with his handy-dandy notebook, it isn't that simple. And Blake insisting that he can take more than 2 glasses of wine over to a table at one time… He can't get over how kind and understanding the woman was, hair dripping with Merlot. Lord knows his parents wouldn't have been if their waiter had accidently tipped the tray too far.

All he wants is to take a scalding shower, bury himself in blankets, and never emerge from his cocoon. But it means getting out of bed first. A recurring difficulty. Soul rolls and slides off the bed until he can gain his footing. He grabs a towel from a basket of clean clothes near the bathroom door and steps in.

As he hangs his towel on the rack near the shower, he notices that Kim's door is slightly ajar. As per their rules, he goes to close and lock it, but pauses out of curiosity to see what lay beyond the door. It's dark, the only light in the room glowing from Kim's TV. Some romantic comedy he'd seen trailers for plays on the screen. On the bed, Kim and Jackie cuddle, the latter tracing little circles on the former's thigh.

His initial reaction is to be happy for them. It must be nice to be able to honestly talk about your feelings and communicate and just _be_ together. But a part of him feels bitter at the scene. Why couldn't it be him snuggled up on his bed with his girlfriend? Why couldn't Maka just come back and want to be with him?

Closing the door as quietly as possible and locking it, Soul can't help the voice in his head that says he should have minded his own business. Serves him right for being a creep. He starts up the shower, letting it run a bit until it heats up so he can turn it as hot as he can stand.

Why hadn't she called yet? No texts, no apologies, no "I need some time to think". Just radio silence. Is she hurting like he is? Maybe it's like the movies where the boy confesses and the girl is dying. He can't bear the thought. Not even bothering to take off his work clothes, he climbs into the shower and sits on the tile, arms folded over his kneecaps.

It's not like he's attempted to make contact with her anyway. He's been too afraid of what she just might respond with if he ever did shoot her a text. The hot water makes his clothes stick uncomfortably to his skin, but Soul doesn't care. He just wants to hear her voice again, laughing like she used to. It takes everything in his power to keep from crying, but his body shakes anyway.

Kim may have been onto something when she said she hated feeling like a slave to the way she feels.

…

The second time he enters the music building is far different from the first. Hands shoved in pockets and breath caught in his throat, Soul meanders down busy hallways and waits for someone to ask why he's there. It's a stupid thing to think anyone would ask, he'd obviously reply "for music", but maybe that's a stupid response, too. The recital room he had claimed once upon a time now hosts a female quartet practicing. He watches them a moment through the little window in the door then proceeds to continue his search.

His search is over when he comes across a tiny practice room with an upright piano in the corner. Glancing around first to make sure no one else has plans to take it, Soul enters and closes the door behind him. He sets his bag on the floor next to the bench and gently lifts the fallboard. Marie had encouraged him to try playing again, especially after he had played for Maka. Something about trying to reclaim music as something that is his. Music always used to be something that he enjoyed, but with the years of jealousy towards his brother and bitterness towards his mother, it just isn't the case anymore. Not until Maka anyway.

Soul takes a seat and scoots the bench closer to the piano. Gently, he plinks out the notes to the song he'd written for Maka. It seems like so long ago now, just a far off memory. Everything was so much simpler then, when it didn't feel like the world was crashing down around him. Individual notes turn into simple chord progressions as he remembers how lucky she used to think he was, living in the lap of luxury in a beautiful city where it can actually snow. Lucky, maybe, but not his idea of paradise.

"Never paradise, not in my eyes," he muses as he pinks out the melody in the higher register. "Not Eden? Hmm…"

Inspiration strikes, and he digs his notebook and pencil out of his bag. At first, it feels wrong writing lyrics about him over "Maka's song". But he'll be damned if he's come this far and still lets anyone tell him how to play his music, especially himself. Or her.

Once he's content with his work, he gives the lyrics a once-over. It's still a little rough, but it feels good to get his thoughts down on paper. It doesn't hurt that it feels like the best "fuck you" to his mom.


	9. Overcome Each Moment in My Own Way

"whatcha up to?" Soul's phone displays. A text from Wes.

He takes a break from searching for his biology book to grab his phone from the nightstand. "can't talk class soon" he texts back. Shoving his phone in his pocket, he returns to the search. Being late for his biology lab is starting to get a little old. He finally finds it shoved under his bed somehow when his phone vibrates again. It's really not the time, but he pulls out his phone anyway.

"play hooky ;)"

It's not like Wes to suggest skipping class. "2 do what?" He doesn't pocket the phone again, instead waiting for the inevitable vibrate again.

"go outside"

Scrunching up his face in confusion, Soul crosses the room to peer out the window. There's nothing out of the ordinary on the lawn. The grass is green, there are students crossing to get to class or food or whatever, nothing unusual until he finally spots a person waving frantically. It can't be. He dials his brother's number and waits a moment for him to pick up, eyes glued to the person on the lawn. Their hands come back down. "Why are you playing mind games with me?" he hisses into the phone.

Wes chuckles. "You should go outside every once in awhile, it's good for you."

"That isn't you outside my building… is it?"

"You should come down and find out!" he sing-songs before hanging up. The figure makes their way across the lawn to circle around front.

Soul slowly brings his phone down from his ear. Had something else happened? Wes couldn't possibly be there just for shits and giggles. He's pretty certain his brother has a concert coming up soon, so there's no way he'd have time to make "I just missed you" trips to Nevada. Trying to swallow down the dread, Soul stuffs his phone and book into his backpack, grabs his keys, and heads downstairs.

Sure enough, there Wes stands, leaning up against another rental car. "Surprise!" he exclaims, arms spread wide. "I know, I know, so excited to see me, but we don't have time to chit chat, you have to get in the car. We have an important meeting, can't be late." He walks around to the driver's side of the vehicle.

Soul's stomach drops. "What… sort of meeting?"

"You'll see," Wes replies before ducking in and slamming the door shut.

Soul has never been the biggest fan of surprises.

...

The car finally comes to a stop in front of a large, white stone building. Out front are a few meticulously groomed plants with balloons springing up in between. "Ashford Manor Leasing Office" can be read on the sign near the main entrance. An apartment complex? Soul shoots his brother a confused look, but Wes seems to ignore it as he climbs out of the vehicle. The younger brother follows suit, and the two climb stairs to the second level where another "Leasing Office" sign hangs beside one of the doors.

Inside feels much cozier than the stark white exterior. Soul had expected the office to be, well, office-ier, more grays and whites like outside and definitely more desks and less sofas. It looks much more like someone had just left office supplies in one of the furnished, but otherwise vacant, apartments and the office workers had just gone with it. Two women type away furiously at their desks, one of theirs heads popping up once the two men came further into the room.

"Can I help you with something?" she asks cheerfully, head tilting to the side a bit.

"Wes Evans, we had a viewing scheduled?"

She holds up a finger to ask him to wait before referring back to her computer. After a moment of typing and scrolling, she pops back up and says, "Absolutely! You two got here just in time, let me get the key for the unit really quick and we'll be on our way!" The woman disappears into one of the bedrooms and comes back a moment later with keys jingling off her finger. "The unit is just one building down, so not far at all. You picked the perfect day, the walk over there will be so nice!"

As they make their way out of the office and over to the next building over, the woman explains that she would be their landlord should they decide to rent the apartment. Soul notices a fenced in pool to their right, empty at the moment since most of the renters are probably at school or work. He glares daggers into Wes's back as they climb another set of stairs. Is he moving to Vegas, too? And if so, why drag him along?

The landlord explains that it is a studio apartment as she unlocks the door. Inside, it really is one big, open room. The carpet muffles their footsteps as they all make their way inside. Large closet, pass through window to peer into a galley kitchen, and a door he presumes leads to a bathroom. She continues to walk through the small apartment, explaining all the amenities and the rules for the pool, but Soul is rooted to the spot.

"You still haven't told me why we're here," he says once his brother notices.

"If you like it, I'll help you get it," Wes replies nonchalantly. Before the other can argue, he continues, "I know, you don't want my help, but I feel like you need it. I picked this place out especially for you, close to school, affordable once you've gotten everything squared away. Let me help. Just the deposit and first month, then you're on your own. Consider it an early birthday present. Sound fair?"

Soul takes another look around the apartment. It could be his. A place he can call his own. The look on Wes's face finally does him in, and he says, "I have to fill out something, right? Like, I don't just sign a form and it's mine?"

The landlord steps closer to the two. "We can head back to the office if you'd like to fill out an application!"

Wes nods and the two follow her out of the apartment, the older brother tussling the other's hair affectionately.

…

"Work?" Marie asks with a soft smile, elbow on the arm of her usual chair and palm propping up her chin.

"Still rough," Soul admits, ankle squared on top of his other knee. "Timing out orders is tough, but at least I take them accurately now." Plus he isn't spilling wine on middle-aged women's heads, but he feels like it's okay to leave that bit out.

Nodding, she continues, "Apartment hunt?"

"Finalized the papers yesterday actually. I get the keys the same day everyone moves out of the dorms."

"Studies?"

He grimaces. "English is better, bio… not really my thing? Trying to make it to study sessions, luckily my neighbor's girlfriend has some notes from taking the same class last semester."

"Family?"

Soul brings his foot back to the ground and leans his elbows on his knees. "I had to, um, change phone numbers because of Mom. She still sends me messages through my school email saying she'll forgive me if I change my mind and come home. Wes and Dad have made it a lot easier though. Dad came down with Wes when we finalized papers for the apartment. We all went out to dinner. It was… nice. Still weird, but nice. He's been staying with my brother for a while. To get away from her."

Sadness flickers in Marie's eye a moment before she presses onward. "Friends?"

"Blake's been really cool. We hang out a lot more, and Tsubaki's sometimes there if we don't hang out near campus. Some of the girls on our floor talk way more than they should. Which sucks 'cause I like Tsubaki. She's like the group mom, you know?"

"And what about Maka?"

He cracks his knuckles and refuses to look up at the counselor. "Still nothing. I texted her my new number, but who knows if she got it." With most everything else going well, he really doesn't want to dwell any longer on Maka, and Marie seems to sense it.

She shifts in her seat, arms crossing over her chest. "That's a shame. You're a good kid, Soul. But what about that reading? You've read everything I gave you, front to back?"

"Yeah, every word," he replies, finally looking up at her again. "How important it is to take the right dosage, all the processes if I do surgery, we've talked about it all for a while now."

"Close your eyes." He gives her a confused look, but she repeats, "Close your eyes! No peeking either!" Soul does as he's told, listening to Marie pull open a desk drawer and rummage through some files. He can feel her standing in front of him as she drops something light in his lap. "Go ahead and look."

It's just a simple piece of paper, words typed across the page. Upon further reading, his eyes widen. "This… it's a-"

"Referral letter. So you can get started on your replacement therapy." Her eyes crinkle from how big she smiles at him. "It might take a bit to set up your first appointment, but at least you've got what you need to do so."

He doesn't know what to say. If someone had told him the day he came to Vegas that this moment would happen, he wouldn't have believed them. Gently, Soul places the letter on the sidetable next to him and stands. Marie is taken aback when he wraps her in a hug, but eventually she returns it lightly, patting him on the back.

It's all coming together. He just wishes Maka could be there to see it by his side.

…

It finally rains for the first time since Soul came to Vegas. There's definitely more thunder and cloud cover than rain, but he can't find it in himself to complain. Rainy days, regardless of how much rain actually falls, have always been some of his favorites. They've always felt like the best thinking days.

He lies on his bed, flipping between the education department's pamphlet and a sheet of required courses. A few more versions of "Eden" in the music building made him seriously consider a change to a music major. Probably not music performance, but maybe music education? He thinks back to the ice breaker he'd been given on his first day at UNLV: "if you could teach a subject, what would it be?". Maybe he could teach music better than his teachers had taught him. Instead of being so damn critical about technique, maybe he could let them interpret music however they wanted. Be more supportive of musicians who put their everything into perfecting a piece.

Soul sighs and drops the papers on either side of him. It's all a big maybe. He does still have time to really think it over. Not much time at the moment however, as there is a knock at his door. Reluctantly, he leaves the comfort of his bed and opens the door.

There she stands, like a ghost, hair slightly damp from the rain. He can't believe it's really her. "Maka?"

"Hi," she says, voice barely over a whisper. "Can I come in?"

His whole body is tense, but he manages to nod and move out of the doorway. Maka thanks him, taking tiny steps over to his desk. She sits on the very edge of the chair, hunched over just a bit as she fidgets with her fingernails.

"I… well, we… I just wanna talk, okay?"

Soul nods again and sits down on the bed. She scoots her chair a bit closer to the bed, causing her knee to bump into one of his. Jerking away from her touch, he notices her shoulders tense more. Her touch used to be one of the things he craved the most, and he can't understand how they got to the point he would ever flinch away from it. She takes a deep breath, signalling the beginning of the conversation, and his eyes flick up to meet hers. It feels like someone snuffed out the flame behind their emerald color. He can't bear to look at them any longer and instead focuses on the door just past her.

"You know, when we were in high school, Blake dared me to go on a romantic date with him. I mean, as romantic as Freshman who can't drive yet can get." Maka picks at the seat of her chair a moment, recalling only a few years ago. "We went to some dumb movie I barely remember, went back to the Barrett house, made fun of the movie, and realized that it was like siblings going on a date. Blake's… always been good at making awkward situations manageable. Our friendship never changed and we rarely talked about our 'date', if ever.

"But you… you're different. You aren't just the boy next door who's been a constant in my life. You're Soul, pianist extraordinaire, who just appeared out of the blue and basically became my friend overnight. And I know it's the biggest cliche ever, but I never wanted to lose that. And…" Trailing off, Maka's eyes focus at his feet. She squirms a bit, trying to find a comfortable spot in her seat and her thoughts.

"And?" he pushes.

Sighing, she continues, "And I thought that that was the real reason I ran away from you that day. You've been… really brave, all this time. Coming out to me, your family, telling me how you feel about me. And I just ran. Even worse, when I figured out why I ran in the first place, I avoided you even more."

"It's because I'm trans, isn't it?" Her sad eyes lock with his a moment, confirming what he'd thought all along. His hands ball into fists as he jumps up from his seat.

Maka's hand darts out to grab his wrist. "Don't go! Please, at least let me finish what I have to say! And if… if you want to leave after that, I won't stop you…"

He's trembling now. Mind racing with infinite possibilities. But he sits back down, ready to listen.

"Thank you." Her hand is still on his wrist. She's trembling, too. "Yes. I think the real reason I ran that day is because you're trans. I really don't want it to be, but it was. This… is different. Society says it's different. And even if I didn't want to buy into it, I think I did. I'm not perfect, and I have some things I have to sort out, but… I know I like you. I like spending time with you, just being next to you. I think… What you want may take some getting used to for me. But I'm willing to try it… if you will let me?"

Are there any combination of words that would work in this situation? He isn't sure. All he can focus on is the sincerity in her voice, the softness of her hands on his wrist, and suddenly he's out of his chair again, Maka's grip gone from his arm. She had said she'd let him go once she finished, but he wishes she'd keep her hands on him forever. Out goes any words or metaphors he can create to comprehend what he feels in this very moment. He just stands there, mouth slightly open, staring at a girl who had avoided him for weeks but now wants to try.

He swallows. "You're sure?"

"More than anything." Her voice breaks a bit, her eyes watering.

Slowly, Soul moves towards her and takes her hand from her side. Lacing his fingers between hers, he says in a small voice, "Then let's try."

She seems almost shocked by his answer for a moment before finally giving in to feelings threatening to spill over. Her free hand reaches around his shoulder to grab a fistful of his shirt as she buries her head under his chin, doing her best to bite back sobs. "I missed you so much," she hiccups.

He doesn't say a word. Just untangles his hand from hers to hold her closer. Outside these walls, the world is still shit. His job at Cloud Nine isn't exactly what he'd expected, his mother has seen to it that most of the family send "concerned" messages his way, and the scholarship he'd managed to dig up just isn't _quite_ enough for the fall semester. But here, fingers in Maka's hair as she leans against him, things are okay.

For the first time in a long time, he can say he wants to try.

…

Wes's apartment had always been so quiet whenever he had come over. Soul had never imagined his own someday apartment to be any livelier than his, but the universe has always liked to throw him curve balls. Blake and Tsubaki cuddle on the blowup mattress Maka had stolen from her father's basement while the girl herself is busy putting away dishes the couple had gotten him as a housewarming present. Soul sets his "music" box down next to them and pats the key in his pocket to make sure it's still there.

The remainder of his semester had come and gone without much of a hitch now that his study partner was back, although biology still tried to kick his butt. Move-out day for the dorms comes much quicker than he had anticipated, but luckily he's prepared. His three friends had agreed to help get him moved into his new home once all the other students were checked out and Tsubaki was free from RA duties. Not a word is spoken about it, but Soul is relieved that they are no longer resident and resident advisor and can now have an actual friendship without worrying about other's opinions.

He shuffles some boxes around, trying his best to unbury the floor and make a proper pathway. Blake and Tsubaki giggle from their place on the bed, and even though he isn't sure if they're laughing at him or something shared between them, he still mutters that they should get a room of their own.

Maka appears in the tiny hallway, clapping her hands once to signal she's finished her task. "Everything out of the car?" she asks him.

Soul nods. "Can't thank you enough for getting your dad to let us borrow it for the day."

She crosses the room with a smile. "Just top it off and don't ever mention a camping trip, and you should be good to go." Wrapping her arms around his middle for a hug, she hums contently into the crook of his neck. "Move-out day any less stressful than move-in day?"

"A little. Not as scary with good friends."

Blake untangles himself from Tsubaki cuddles and gives him a thumbs up. "Always happy to be of service. Now about this pizza that was promised? I do still demand payment for all my heavy lifting."

Tsubaki stretches out on the mattress, looking up at Blake. "Do you usually get paid in pizza for things?"

"I mean, it's an acceptable form of payment."

Maka snorts and lets go of Soul to collect her purse next to the pile of computer parts under the kitchen's pass through. "'Barrett Moving Company. We take Visa and pizza.'"

Soul smiles warmly at the scene, chuckling softly as Blake's attempt to clamber off the mattress nearly sends Tsubaki sailing. He thinks back to that night so long ago when they had all hung out together at Cloud Nine. Never had he expected to get to this point, this scene before him.

Maka jingles her father's car keys in his face, startling him. "All ready for pizza?" she beams at him, slipping a free hand into his.

Returning the smile, he nods. Blake and Tsubaki exit the apartment first, already discussing which toppings to choose as they head down the stairwell. Maka lingers while Soul fishes the key from his pocket. His eyes scan the apartment one more time, memorizing the layout and still trying to convince himself it's his reality now. He's grateful, so incredibly grateful.

"Soul?" Maka's hand gives his a slight squeeze. "Everything okay?"

He smirks at her and leans in to kiss her sweetly on the lips. "Everything's great." Flipping the lightswitch off, he softly closes the door and locks it behind him.

* * *

Bonus content:

 


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